


If I Am Silent, Then I Am Not Real

by teal_always



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Assault (brief), Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canonical Time Period, Disguised as a boy AU, F/M, Families of Choice, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Non-binary character, Original Character(s), Period Typical Attitudes, Slow Burn, anne doesn't go to GG au, girl disguised as a boy (brief), hope this story works..., or as slow as I'm gonna get
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24260743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teal_always/pseuds/teal_always
Summary: Anne Shirley does what is necessary to survive the streets of Charlottetown after running away from the asylum, picking up people along the way whether she knows it or not.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Mary Lacroix & Anne Shirley
Comments: 44
Kudos: 182





	1. introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about another canon divergence AU where Anne doesn’t go to GG because I love those. Then I saw a gifset from Killing Eve (even though I don’t watch it) that made me think of a Shazam subplot of all things… and then I thought of this. Also, had to go with the classic disguised-as-a-boy AU too. And insert my trademark kidfic somewhere in this, of course (although this is more like an Accidental Sibling Acquisition). Fair warning: I have created a character that is kind of non-binary, but I’ve kept it vague because of the time period and no one really discusses it, I hope I didn’t fuck it up.
> 
> I might take a break from writing and go open a real book maybe? We’ll see.  
> Might also post a few deleted scenes from one or two of my other fics… 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading!
> 
> (The name of the OC was provided by raebeme as a nod to the “Bloody Jack Adventures” books she loved as a kid.)
> 
> Title from “Silence Is Golden” by Garbage

_ Please don’t look for us again _ .

The sunlight entered through the curtainless window, just making it over the building within touching distance right beside it. As it did every morning, the light woke her up. She wasn’t jerked awake from a nightmare or gently woken from a peaceful slumber. She was just awake. And saw no reason for the sun to be so bright and warm and welcoming. Because it just lit up her small room and made it so she could see what little she had, so she would have to get up and face the day. It felt like a dream, those times that she beamed back at the beams of light that graced her freckled skin, that she greeted the sun like a friend. The only one she had.

Anne sat up, her thin blanket slipping down into her lap. The room she was in was at the topmost part of the building, making it the worst place to be no matter the season, but she could come and go as she pleased and no one batted an eye. Her circumstances in renting this room mimicked just about everything else in her life: she could walk by anything and anyone without notice and that was enough for her.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, her foot caught on the stack of books beside her. She left the cascaded wave of words where they fell. They’d be there when she returned, too tired to open them.

The room didn’t have a closet and there was no way she could have carried a dresser up the stairs by herself, if one would have even fit through the door, so her clothes were kept in her old carpetbag. She had lived in this room for years but most of her possessions stayed in the one bag, adding to the illusion that she was always ready to leave should the need arise. She’d skated by, on ice that thinned dangerously at times, but it held her weight this long.

On this day, no different than any of the rest, Anne shed her nightclothes and pulled on what she wore to work. What little luck she seemed to have lingered in the way her body changed, or didn’t, as she got older. She was lucky that it did not take much for her to flatten her chest enough for her suspenders to lay like they did on anyone else she worked with, a lesson she learned after going overboard with wraps and ending up with a bruised rib. Once she stuffed her hair into a cap, she was able to blend in enough with the other teenage boys, some possibly lying about their age like her, that paid her no mind as long as she didn’t get in their way. And that was enough for her.

She didn’t look in the small mirror she had propped against the wall. She knew what she looked like and she knew the dirt ingrained into her skin beside the burnt-in freckles did half the job for her, pants or no pants. She blended in with the other dirty kids trying to make the pocket change needed to feed themselves for the night, and she blended in with the dirty buildings along the dirty edges of Charlottetown. She didn’t even care if the coins dropped into her dirty palms were dirty as well. They paid for her room and they paid for the food that barely lined her stomach.

And that was enough for her. Because that was all she had.

  
  



	2. story

Anne had spent years silently watching and learning, and while she was no  _ real _ student of real books and real lessons, she believed she had studied enough to pretty much perfect the art in which she dabbled. For it took skill, she liked to think, to act like a boy well enough so no one gave her a second look. It was the way they walked, the way they were sure of their position in society, class notwithstanding. It was how she had to hold herself and the way she had to act like she never knew real fear beyond the fear of a lost job or an empty stomach. She had to be sure that the muscles in her arms would carry the weight of the crates she was pointed to and she had to be sure that no one would find out what she really was. And send her back. Or worse. So she had to be sure of herself so no one would be unsure for her. Because she was all she had, and a stiff backbone was all she needed.

Anne rarely even needed to use the fake name she had come up with since anyone that spoke to her, another rarity, just used her last name. But she did use other things she had come up with, in pretending to be a boy. The clothes were the most useful, of course, but also the way they walked, the way they stood, the way they talked, and, most importantly, how they just accepted anyone that kept to themselves. Some of the boys with which she worked seemed to be friends, but plenty spoke to no one, so neither did she. She could get away with being younger than she was, too, because of her voice and her smooth face. It also helped immensely that most of the people around her just… didn’t care. Anne did her job and received her money. She avoided getting hurt or causing a ruckus and she received her money. She did the jobs not many others wanted and she received her money. She kept her head down and paid her rent and paid for her food and let people take the money she received. She didn’t cause any trouble with others so no one caused any trouble with her. 

And all her days were the same. The weather changed, and her body might have if she looked close enough, but not much else did. Time was like a fog for her. It kept everything within sight just the same. Nothing of the future could be detected, and she only had her memories of the past, but she just kept moving, avoiding collisions as they appeared suddenly before her, expertly dodging to avoid detection.

* * *

Anne walked with a heavy gait towards the Charlottetown port, eating the leftover bread heel from her dinner the night before. In other parts of the town it would probably be silent as it slowly came to life, but here it was already bustling with everyone that had to get up early to make the place run for those that could sleep in. It had taken her some time to get here from Nova Scotia all those years ago, and it did not feel that much different from anywhere else, but it was where she had stopped and where she hadn’t been found out yet, so she would stay until she no longer could. When she was younger, she had dreamt of places more beautiful, more welcoming and alive, but she had quickly learned that a  _ home _ was just where you laid your head at night and nothing more.

As she turned a corner, what remained of her breakfast was slipped from her hand, and, just as suddenly, her hand caught a thin wrist in her grip.

“That’s impolite,” Anne said.

“But I’m hungry.”

Anne tugged hard on the arm she held and the tiny person on the other end stumbled towards her, still grasping onto the stolen bread. “Then you ask and I’ll give it to you,” she said before letting go. “Or don’t get caught.”

“It’s just you,” the kid said derisively.

“You’re lucky it’s just me,” Anne snapped back before continuing on her path towards the docks.

“Whatever,” the kid muttered, stuffing the bread in their mouth as they followed her.

“Not whatever,” Anne said, reaching over to flick their ear. “I  _ told _ you. If you’re going to dress like that, you need to move quicker or stay out of sight, Jackie.”

“I am out of sight,” Jackie argued, crumbs flying out of their mouth and making Anne roll her eyes.

This kid had appeared out of nowhere, dirty and angry and looking much too much like Anne for her to ignore it. Upon further investigation, and really just a few hard looks, Anne could tell that this kid was like her. Born a little girl, now not much younger than Anne had been when she had run away from the asylum, trying to tough it out in a man’s world. Against her better judgment, Anne had tried to give the kid a few tips, but all she’d gotten in return was a kick to the shin when Anne had called her “she.”

Anne shook her head, walking faster, and just hearing the smaller feet behind her picking up their pace too. “Come on,” Anne sighed. “There’s a boat coming in, if you keep your hands busy,  _ but to yourself _ , we may get some tips.”

Anne pulled her cap tighter on her head as she and Jackie joined the loose grouping of boys of varying ages waiting by a specific dock, a boat pointed their way off in the distance.

Unloading boats of cargo and passengers’ belongings was a typical day spent in the ports and an easy-to-find job if you know where to look and how to go about it. Anne had started here when she first arrived in Charlottetown, stowed away on one of these very boats. It had been difficult at first but the ability to learn fast, after her body was able to keep up, was why she had survived this long. (In addition to her ability to read which afforded her one or two opportunities that the other boys couldn’t have done.)

As the boat pulled in, Anne looked over at Jackie and gave them a hard look, which got her an eye roll in return. Anne couldn’t argue that she herself was a bit stubborn, but she believed that stubbornness was probably all Jackie lived on.

The passengers began offloading first and Anne made sure to be one of the first pair of free hands they saw as she silently offered her services to help carry their bags to their carriages. She kept her eyes down, especially around the women, and pocketed any rogue coins tossed her way. Once the passengers and their crisp suits and beautiful puffed sleeves left the docks and reintegrated themselves into the proper part of the port city, the real work began. The boat crew that were staying on began to unload the cargo and all the extra hands did their part as they were bid by the foreman under his watchful eye. Anne caught sight of a few crewmembers taking their final bits of payment as they severed their time with the Primrose and Anne wondered if they had made that much, enough to stay on land and make other choices with their full pockets. Anne had considered working on a boat before, but figured it was safer to have the ability to run with her feet on land. Seeing other ports, even foreign soil, held quite a lot of appeal, but Anne knew that adventures such as that were for people not like her.

Anne let go of a crate in its designated spot and made her way back to the edge of the dock. Her ears perked up in interest as she passed one of the boat’s crewmen speaking a language she didn’t know, which distracted her just enough for her to run fully into another person hard enough for her cap to tilt and reveal the edges of her bright hair.

“Sorry,” the other person said, hand suddenly on her shoulder to keep her from stumbling.

Anne flinched back, her hands automatically going to tug her cap back into place as she spared a glance up at whoever she had run into. She was faced with a man, not much older than she (if she went by her real age), that was obviously one of the members of the crew, based on the smudge of soot along his chin he had missed when cleaning up. He was taller than her, with curly hair that made him appear a bit younger.

And he was looking straight at her.

Her veins turned to ice as she watched his eyebrows furrow together, as if he was looking at a particularly tough riddle. But he was just looking at her. And he didn’t stop, not until another man came up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Come on, Blythe,” the other man said in an accent Anne had never heard before. “We need to get one of those rooms before they’re all rented out.”

Blythe looked like he was pulled out of a deep thought as he blinked and then looked at the other man, allowing Anne to slip away into the crowd before either noticed. She missed the way he looked around in disbelief before he was pulled away by his companion.

* * *

By the time the sun disappeared, the Primrose had been emptied, then filled again, and would be off by the time the sun reappeared. Anne felt the effects of all the heavy lifting she had done, but she primarily felt it in the weight in her previously empty pocket. She broke off from the pack, most heading to scrounge up their dinner in one part of Charlottetown, so she aimed for wherever they wouldn’t be. After spending some of that day’s earnings on something hot, Anne felt a presence beside her as she walked the muddy paths towards the building to which her room was attached.

“I wan’ a boat.”

“What would you do with a boat?” Anne asked wryly.

“Boat things,” Jackie said through a mouthful of bread, as was usually how their conversations went.

“What if you get seasick?” Anne asked.

“Wha’s that?”

“The waves in the ocean move the boat so much that it makes you vomit.”

“Oh,” Jackie said, frowning.

“Probably best to keep both feet on the ground,” Anne said, ruffling Jackie’s short hair before they could duck away.

“Can I stay wit’ you tonight?” they asked, apropos of nothing, as usual.

“What happened to your last place?” Anne asked with a huff as they walked around a hitched horse and Anne had to forcefully move Jackie out of the way of its back hooves.

“Someone was pokin’ around,” Jackie shrugged.

“Just for tonight,” Anne sighed as they reached her building. She looked around for any watching eyes before shuffling Jacke up the outside stairs towards the top.

Once inside, Anne locked the door behind them and pulled her cap off and tugged out a few pins to let her hair fall at her shoulders. She should chop it off sometime son, but she kind of liked the risk in letting it get just past where it should. 

Anne reached under her bed and pulled out a few spare blankets and tossed them to Jackie so they could make themselves some kind of space on the floor. It wasn’t comfortable but her bed wasn’t much better anyway.

“Get some sleep,” Anne said as she started to slip off her clothes while Jackie made themselves as comfortable as they could get. After doing her best to clean herself up, Anne got into her bed and tried to fall asleep, trying not to think of the upcoming morning that would make this just start all over again.

* * *

With the days mimicking one another in a way that would seem almost comical if it didn’t sap the life out of you, the only thing that brought about any amount of difference was the change in the weather. Anne’s younger self constantly ached for spring, while Anne now just anticipated the ache that came with the cooling air. The only benefit being that it was easier to hide under more layers, even if she spent that time more worried about the tips of her toes and fingers than anything else. Waking up to a cold morning made it harder to want to get up, but she also knew that getting to work meant getting warmer than she ever could with her growing hoard of blankets in her drafty room. 

Walking through the morning hustle also felt different as the temperature changed. It made Anne look around her just a touch more than usual. Others were more prepared than she was, without her coat, but plenty more were in the same boat, or worse. She had given Jackie what she hadn’t sold that she had grown out of, but just about all of the kids running around unattended underfoot along the edges of Charlottetown needed more than they had. But so did everyone else. And Anne was no different, even under the clothes she shouldn’t be wearing.

That morning had Anne walking just that much faster so as not to linger out in the open. She would be working inside that day, unusually, and she aimed to be on time and work harder than anyone else so that maybe it would become a more permanent job, a luxury in this place, especially as winter approached.

“ _Andrew_ ,” a meek voice hissed from between two buildings.

Anne stopped and looked around her. Most of the people up at this time had someplace to be, just like her, and didn’t spare her a second glance (if they spared a first). She did, however, catch a glimpse of the man that she had run into on the docks the week or so before. He looked like he was waiting for someone, a few doors down. He was reading a piece of paper in his hand but then suddenly he lifted his head and looked straight at Anne. She could see his frown from where she stood and wasted no time ducking into the small alley, both to get away from the stranger’s gaze and to see what Jackie wanted, as they were really the only ones that addressed her by her assumed first name.

To Anne’s surprise, she found Jackie in the cold dark space with a tear-stained face, gripping something to their chest.

“What—”

“A-andrew,” Jackie gasped, appearing younger than ever before as they stared up at Anne with fear in their soil-brown eyes.

Anne stepped forward, a frown deepening on her face, and had a bundle of cloth shoved into her hands. She watched as Jackie wrapped their arms around themselves and looked to what she had been handed for some kind of answer from the unusually silent child. 

Lifting it up by one edge, Anne let the cloth tumble open and realized it was a pair of drawers. With a large red, not yet brown, stain blooming from where the legs met. Anne sighed.

“How old are you?” Anne asked, folding the drawers with the stain hidden in the middle.

“Eleven,” Jackie sniffled. “I think.”

“A bit young,” Anne muttered, tucking the cloth beneath her arm. “It’s alright, you aren’t dying. Nothing is wrong with you.”

“It feels wrong,” Jack hiccuped, flinching a bit as someone walked by but didn’t even look over.

“It does,” Anne acquiesced, holding her other arm up so Jackie could step under it for a tiny bit of affection that they didn’t usually want nor did Anne usually give. “But it’s normal, unfortunately. We’ll need to go back to my room for a few things. What I have, at least.”

“You don’t have anythin’ to do?” they asked as Anne put her arm around their shoulders and began to lead them out of the alley and back to where she had started from.

“I do,” Anne said, holding back another frustrated sigh. “But it’s alright.”

Anne kept her head down as she walked her charge back through the morning crowd. She thought she saw that man again but just walked faster instead of taking a closer look. Once back in her room, she did the best she could at explaining the situation to Jackie and giving them what supplies she had on hand. It was yet another thing to add to the list of what both of them had to deal with and keep hidden that made hiding all the much harder to do. Working through pain wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but keeping prominent bloodstains out of clothes was another matter altogether. It was a gamble between using reusable cloths and disposable ones, Anne found. She had struggled immensely when this first happened to her, with no one there to provide guidance, and it had been a difficult learning process overall. It was only by a stroke of luck that she found a situation in which she could use her reusable clothes, and get them discreetly cleaned, instead of trying to discreetly buy the more expensive disposable napkins. Anne’s only recommendation for Jackie was to do the same as her and hope her luck transferred.

As the day wore on, and Jackie stopped crying over the unfairness of it all, Anne left them in her room to make her way towards the Bog and the one building in it she frequented the most.

Anne could almost feel the warmth emanating from the place as she walked up. Straightening her cap, Anne approached the foggy window and gently knocked to get someone’s attention. She could just see the shape of a figure waving at someone else inside until that someone else was walking towards the door. Anne glanced around before looking back to the door as it opened and a familiar face walked out.

“Andrew.”

“Mary,” Anne said, having to keep her distance while still standing close enough so they could talk privately.

“You look thinner. Are you getting enough to eat?” Mary sighed, crossing her arms as she looked over Anne from head to toe. 

“I’m fine,” Anne brushed off stubbornly as she always did. Anne would have survived Charlottetown like she survived everywhere else, but she could admit, if only to herself, that that survival had been just a touch easier after meeting Mary Hanford. Mary finding out Anne’s secret had been a byproduct of one of the bigger blunders in Anne’s life, but she was lucky that it turned out okay in the end. She knew it could have gone much worse.

Mary just gave her an unimpressed look. “My door is still open—”

“You and I both know I can’t do that,” Anne interrupted.

“Well, you came to me for something,” Mary sighed again as she always did when talking to Anne.

Anne held out the folded drawers and watched as Mary unfolded them just enough to see what they were and what the problem was.

“These look a little small for you,” Mary said dryly.

“They’re Jackie’s,” Anne huffed.

“I thought he’d have a few years,” Mary commented before tucking the drawers in her apron. “So you’ll have twice the cloths for me every month, then?”

Anne frowned. “Which is why I’ll pay—”

“No. You won’t. Don’t think I didn’t notice it’s the middle of the day and you’re here instead of wherever you should be,” Mary said, crossing her arms again and looking every inch the mother Anne knew her to be.

“I couldn’t leave Jackie alone today,” Anne defended.

“And Jackie can sleep on your floor. But whose floor will you sleep on, dressed like this, if you can’t make rent?” Mary asked.

Anne opened her mouth to keep arguing but closed it just as quickly. She glanced away from Mary to deflect her thoughts and crossed her arms over her chest, making herself look smaller in the process. 

“Do you still have that dress you offered me?” Anne mumbled, her eyes trained on the ground.

Mary seemed to deflate before her. “Do you mean it?” Mary asked, taking a step forward but stopping herself from reaching out.

Anne huffed. “Last winter was hard,” Anne admitted. “I was meant to start in a shop today, but it’s probably gone to someone else already since I didn’t show. The boarding houses are always looking for maids…”

“You know those are risky,” Mary started, frowning again.

“But they’re more stable than the docks,” Anne said, looking back up at the other woman. “I’m eighteen now, I can’t be sent back to the asylum, so maybe it’s safer for me to um… wear normal clothes…”

“And you could take my spare room—”

Anne shook her head. “That’s still not necessary, Mary. But… thanks. I’ll come back for Jackie’s things, alright?”

“Alright,” Mary said, sighing at failing to convince Anne, again. “And I’ll look to see if anything left here would fit you.”

Anne nodded and stuffed her hands in her pants pockets. She turned to walk away but caught sight of a familiar man, one that looked more comfortable in the Bog than she did. He was covered in mud, and what smelled like much worse, so obviously was there for the laundry service. He had his eye on Mary as she went back inside, the closing door making him look then at Anne. Before Anne could decipher the look on his face, she was up and around the corner, disappearing like she was born to do.

* * *

“He sounds nice,” Anne commented as she looked in the mirror, trying to reconcile with herself that the person she was looking at was her.

Time had passed, maybe a month or two if she had been counting, and Anne had to make her decisions. It was getting colder and open positions were filling up in Charlottetown as the port began to slow down. If she wanted to commit herself to a job as a maid in one of the boarding houses, she would need to do it now.

And that left her standing in Mary Hanford’s bedroom, dressed like she hadn’t dressed in over five years. 

It was such a stark contrast, from her whole life. She had dressed as a little girl, with her ragged knee-length skirts and pinafores, before shedding that life like a second skin and adopting the shirts and pants that afforded her some kind of safety while she was on her own. To go from both of those to the long dresses of a woman… was startling, to say the least. Mary had even managed to do something with her hair despite how short it was. Anne felt like she was looking at a caricature of herself.

“He is,” Mary said, continuing their conversation and simply allowing Anne to try to come to terms with what she was doing. “Unexpectedly so. So... unexpected… Maybe you could find something like it, now that you’re… going back, so to speak.”

“Find something like what?” Anne asked absently, reaching up to touch her hair as if it wasn’t her own.

“A nice man.”

Anne let out a laugh. Something sudden. Something not very nice.

“Uh huh.”

Mary frowned from her spot on her bed, watching Anne’s face through the mirror. “I hope you know you can come to me, should you have any questions about those things…”

“Unlikely,” Anne said derisively as she leaned closer to the mirror to inspect the freckles that had only grown in number after a summer at the docks. She then stepped back, not wanting to look at herself anymore. Not when her reflection was starting to look like a certain someone, and she didn’t like it.

“Will you stay for dinner?” Mary asked, changing the subject. 

“It would be best if I left when it was dark anyway,” Anne said, having taken a risk in going to Mary’s home in the first place. She then remembered herself and turned to the other woman. “I mean. Yes. Thank you.” Another struggle she would have to face would be talking to others, in general, but also remembering her manners when dealing with those that expected a response, and the right one at that.

Mary stood from her bed with a soft smile as she looked Anne over now that she was facing her way. “You do look lovely. Anne,” she said, lightly touching Anne’s arm before leaving the room. She kindly ignored the way Anne had flinched at both the use of her name and the touch.

Anne turned to the mirror again, a frown marring her face. She felt seen, and, as someone who had spent her life as anything but, it was unsettling.

She quickly changed back into her other clothes, putting the few dresses Mary was giving her into a bag with this month’s clean cloths. She couldn’t say that wearing these clothes, meant for a teenage boy and not for her, felt normal. But they were comfortable. And safe. She could hide behind them in a way she wouldn’t be able to in a dress, but hiding also came with the risk of being found. At least, as a woman, she could just hide behind her hair and freckles. Surely being a boy covered in dirt that everyone overlooked wasn’t too dissimilar from being a girl too ugly to pay attention to.

Later, after Mary fulfilled her wish to fill Anne with enough food to make her feel like she was going to explode, Anne left Mary’s warm home and started her way through the Bog towards the street on which she lived. She didn’t linger, but she did take a moment to appreciate how different it would be, walking through such streets, as the real her, wearing the clothes she kept out of sight in the bag on her shoulders. Dressing as a boy for as long as she had had afforded her certain freedoms she knew she would be giving up. Walking these streets would still require her to keep looking over her shoulder, but just for different reasons now.

And as she glanced around her this time, Anne caught someone watching her. He looked familiar, but it was hard to tell in the dark. So she just hurried home and made sure she wasn’t followed.

* * *

“You look dumb.”

“ _ You _ look dumb,” Anne mumbled, leaning over to look into the mirror propped against her pillows so she could check her hair one last time.

“You look like a lady,” Jackie complained from their spot on the floor.

“I  _ am _ a lady,” Anne retorted. She stood up, deciding that her hair was as good as it was going to get. 

“I’m not.”

“Yes. I don’t know what you are,” Anne huffed, grabbing her bag that had her new uniform inside and making sure it was all there before slipping on her coat. She then looked up to see Jackie frowning and sighed. “But that’s okay. You can just be you.”

“Is that you, then?” Jackie asked, scrunching up their nose.

“I suppose it is,” Anne said, looking down at the way her skirt met the top of her boots. She took a deep breath and let it all out. “Alright, out you get, I can’t be late.”

“What does a maid do?” Jackie asked, unfolding themselves so they could stand.

“Clean.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Boring might be nice,” Anne argued, pushing them out the door so she could lock up. She glanced down to the thankfully empty alley and pushed Jackie towards the stairs. 

“Do you get money?”

“That’s the whole point.”

“Oh,” Jackie grunted, jumping the last few stairs and landing in the cold-hardened dirt. “Do I have to wear a dress?”

“I don’t know, do you want to?”

Jackie scrunched their nose up. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Maybe? Maybe if it feels right?” Anne asked curiously.

Jackie shrugged.

“Alright. Go do something useful. We’ll need to be more careful now, if you’re going to hang around me. It would be better for you to keep sleeping elsewhere,” Anne said, her words probably falling on deaf ears as the kid immediately ran off.

Anne shook her head as she adjusted her coat and started towards the boarding house with which she had managed to get a job. It wasn’t far from where she was staying, but the cold air still nipped at her all the same.

She slipped around the back of the building to the employee entrance and just managed to step back when she heard voices.

“— and we’ll get out of here as soon as I get word that it’s done,” a voice said as she narrowly avoided the door opening into her.

The voices stopped as two men stepped out and then stopped when they noticed Anne.

Anne frowned, both at the fact that these men didn’t seem to be employees yet were using the employee entrance, but also because she recognized both of them. The white man was the one she had run into on the docks, while the black man was his companion that she had seen multiple times in the Bog. During every encounter, if they were enough to be called that, however, she had been dressed as Andrew. So when their eyes fell onto her now, as  _ just Anne _ , she immediately fell towards the door and rushed inside.

* * *

Working at the boarding house was both familiar and so very new to Anne. It reminded her of the work she used to do at the homes to which she was sent as a little girl. But it was the opposite of all the work she did post-asylum. She knew how to work hard and get things done, which her boss seemed to appreciate, but spending time around strangers, especially male strangers, as a woman again… She knew why Mary had warned her against this. But she also knew how to keep her head down and keep out of sight, a skill she utilized to the best of her ability now, and to her benefit.

The only problem was that she couldn’t quite keep away from the one man who seemed to be there every time she turned around. 

Anne would honestly think these men were following her if she didn’t know they just happened to be staying at the boarding house at which she worked. But she liked to think she was quick, so they may catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of her eye, but as soon as she saw them, she was gone. She had enough on her plate with her new boss and all the other employees (working in close quarters with other women was a bit of a novelty for her and she could only be thankful that they seemed polite enough when they ignored her unlike the girls back at the asylum), she didn’t need to deal with suspicious guests. 

The boarding house at which she spent her days was on the smaller side, compared to the others in town, and they did not do their own laundry. Anne had quickly volunteered to oversee carting the linens to and from the closest laundry service, which just happened to be the one at which Mary worked. She tried not to bother the woman too much, but she liked being able to give her and the other women the business, especially after taking advantage of her kindness, and skills in removing blood stains, for so long.

With her one winter coat wrapped tight around her uniform, Anne made her way towards the Bog and the one building that was perpetually steaming at this time of the year. 

Instead of waiting outside, Anne knocked then entered, the heavy basket in her arms slipping just in time to hit the floor instead of the black snow outside. Anne politely waved to some of the women that looked her way, grateful none of them said anything to her if they did happen to notice her looking a little different than before, and waited for Mary to come up from the back. 

“You’re still alive, then?” Mary asked as she approached, helping Anne lift the basket onto a table so they could count its contents.

“I’m just fine, Mary,” Anne said like she always did. “This job isn’t the highest paying one I’ve ever had, but it’s steady, and that’s more than I could’ve asked for a few years ago.”

“Well, you don’t ask for much, that’s for sure,” Mary sighed, picking through the linens absently but obviously still paying attention. “You are cutting it close today, we won’t be here for much longer.”

“I get the odd hours, since I’m new,” Anne said dismissively, trying not to give into the temptation to unbutton her coat since it was so warm in there.

“You and Elijah are both too stubborn for your own good,” Mary complained, shaking her head. “I suppose I can’t convince you to join us for Christmas lunch?”

Anne smiled wanly. “I have to work.”

“Of course you do. Well, you better get back to it. You know when to pick these up,” Mary said as she walked with Anne outside. “You— Oh! Bash, you’re early.”

Anne turned sharply and found a familiar face giving her a curious look.

“Good evening, Mary,” the man said, smiling at Mary in such a way that Anne quickly realized who he was, in this context at least.

“Bash, this is… Anne Shirley,” Mary introduced, stepping closer to the man and putting her hand on his arm. “Anne, this is Sebastian Lacroix.”

Bash still had a bemused look on his face as he asked, “Have we met before?”

“No,” Anne said immediately. “I don’t believe so. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lacroix. I should um, be getting back to work.”

And Anne did as she did best: she ran away.

* * *

Anne was almost finished for the day and she was feeling it in her feet the most. Nothing really compared to hauling crates for hours on end, but hard work was hard work, according to her body. Sore muscles and sore limbs were what she felt as she slipped into bed at night, and were the only things to greet her in the mornings besides the pale winter sun calling for her through her window and reminding her that she had to get up, pain or no pain. And there was never no pain.

Arriving at the last room in the hall, the one closest to the basement through which the employees entered the building, Anne knocked with a bundle of fresh sheets hanging over one arm.

She heard shuffling on the other side of the door before it opened. And revealed the last person she wanted to see.

The man’s eyebrows lifted at the sight of her, but he stepped aside to let her into the room.

With her heart rate rising, Anne stepped inside and started towards the beds, only flinching slightly when she was interrupted.

“We can do that,” the man said suddenly, like it just occurred to him.

Anne turned back around to see the man still standing by the door, but he hadn’t closed it. Without argument, Anne set the linens down, not taking her eyes off him. She then carefully made her way back to the door, waiting to see if he was going to do anything.

But he just said, “It was you, wasn’t it?”

Anne froze in the middle of the doorway. 

“Pardon?” she murmured, not looking at him.

“At the docks. Remember?” he asked, sounding way too casual.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Anne said stiffly.

The man hummed. “I think you do,” he said, sounding amused of all things. “That must have been quite the risk. How long have you been doing that? I’m surprised you were never caught. Were you?”

“I don’t know—”

“You don’t know what I’m talking about or you don’t know if you were caught? I think you’d know. I suppose people just weren’t paying attention, then?”

“Of course they weren’t,” Anne snapped before she could stop herself. Her eyes cut to the man who was now full-on smirking at her.

“It seems  _ I  _ was,” he said. 

“Do you want a reward?” Anne asked derisively, which, annoyingly, just made the man grin wider.

“No need, Carrots,” he said before sticking his hand out. “Gilbert Blythe—”

But Anne was already stomping down the hall in a huff.

* * *

Anne could maybe imagine the appeal of a nice, crisp winter morning, layered with a blanket of untouched and sparkling snow. But after so many winters in a city, where there was never any untouched snow, let alone snow that stayed white, the appeal felt foreign. Especially when she had to walk through the slush every day, trying not to let the hem of her dress soak up too much of it (something she didn’t have to think too hard on when wearing pants).

As she sloshed through the streets of Charlottetown, for once done with a shift when the sun was still up, a hand was suddenly shoved in front of her.

“What’s this?” Anne asked, stopping and peering at whatever was in Jackie’s grubby fist.

“I dunno. It’s good,” they shrugged.

Anne took what looked to be a cloth napkin from the kid and unfolded it to find a smooshed piece of cake. 

“Did you steal this?” Anne asked.

“No,” Jackie said indignantly. 

“Why should I believe you?” Anne asked, stuffing the small piece in her mouth anyway. It had been a while since she had something that good.

“Mary gave it to me,” Jackie defended, snatching back the napkin.

“I thought I told you not to bother her,” Anne said as she continued down the street, knowing Jackie would follow.

“I wasn’t,” Jackie said petulantly, stuffing the napkin in their pocket. “ _ She _ talked to  _ me _ .”

“Did you at least say thank you?” Anne asked and received what she took as a grunt of affirmation. 

They passed the post office, a building Anne had never needed to enter for she had no one to write to her, just as the door opened. 

“Miss Shirley!” a voice said cheerfully, making Anne falter in her next step.

It would be rude to keep walking, no matter how much she wanted to, so she could only turn around, her hands clutching tightly to her bag as some sort of anchor.

Mary’s Bash was smiling at her and no part of his face held any sort of mockery. But Anne couldn’t say the same for his companion whose face held that infuriating smirk again.

“Mr. Lacroix,” Anne greeted politely. “Um. Mr. Blythe…”

“Ah, so you two have met,” Bash said, grinning. 

“Not quite officially,” Gilbert said, making Anne stand straighter. “Miss Shirley, you said? And this—”

Gilbert blinked in the direction of Anne’s side and she glanced over to see that Jackie was no longer there. Probably for the better. She had taught them to stay scarce afterall. 

“Yes,” Anne said quickly, drawing their attention back to her. “Um. I work at the boarding house. That you stay in. I believe.”

“Not for much longer, thankfully,” Bash muttered before smiling at Anne once again. “I think Mary did mention that, if I recall correctly. She speaks very highly of you. The little she says, at least.”

“Oh,” Anne said, visibly taken aback. She had thought of herself as nothing but a bit of a nuisance in Mary Hanford’s life, not someone she would wish to praise behind her back. 

“If you’re heading somewhere, we’d be glad to escort you,” Gilbert said, making Anne and Bash both look at him incredulously.

“Oh, no, that’s not—”

“It’s no inconvenience,” Gilbert persuaded, making her frown.

“I am afraid I won’t be able to join you two,” Bash said, giving Gilbert a pointed look before smiling back at Anne. “But I promise you, Miss Shirley, Gilbert here is nothing but a gentleman. Have a good afternoon.”

Anne opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out as she watched Bash tip his hat at her then walk away towards the Bog. She snapped her mouth shut and pursed her lips unhappily as she looked to Gilbert who looked quite pleased with the situation. 

Anne spun around on her heel and started to walk away. When she felt someone fall into step beside her, she said, “I assure you, Mr. Blythe—”

“Gilbert, please.”

“ _ Mr. Blythe _ . I am perfectly capable of walking by myself.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Gilbert said pleasantly. “But a nice afternoon stroll is made all the nicer with a companion, don’t you think?”

Anne made an unconvinced sound. “I don’t find myself with enough free time to take many pointless strolls,” she said dryly.

“Pity,” Gilbert said and she gave him a weird look when it sounded like he meant it. “Where are we going today, then?”

“I  _ was _ going home,” Anne said pointedly. “But now I suppose I will go to the bookseller’s and that is where you will leave me.”

“Sounds delightful,” Gilbert said, his hands in his pockets, thankfully making no move to have her take his arm or any such nonsense.

Anne’s stomach tightened as she walked, back straight and gait just a touch too hard from her years of putting on airs. She knew this man was mocking her, but he was almost too good at acting sincere that it was hard to call him out on it. When they reached the store, Anne stayed outside to peruse the small box of books that were discounted enough for her to rationalize spending her money on them. Gilbert didn’t leave once she turned her attention to the books, nor did he wander inside to look at the works he could probably afford. His presence made her tense and it didn’t help that he suddenly let out a chuckle that she automatically assumed was aimed at her. 

Defensive, Anne jerked to face him but found that he was holding out a small book to her. 

“Are you familiar?” Gilbert asked, obviously amused as he held up a worn copy of  _ Cymbeline _ .

“You might think this horribly funny, but this is my life,” Anne snapped, keeping her voice down for the sake of the other patrons that were walking past and snatching the play from his hands and tossing it back into the box.

Gilbert frowned, looking chastised. “I apologize,” he said, brow furrowed as he watched her angrily adjust her coat. “I just— Well— It  _ is  _ your life and it must be quite the tale. I hope you might tell it one day.”

Anne turned away from him and picked up a book at random, her eyes not taking in the words. Someone noticing her, someone  _ seeing _ her, felt particularly uncomfortable. Especially from this man with his expressive eyes. 

“That’s a personal favorite of mine,” Gilbert said after a few moments of silence, almost as a peace offering.

Anne closed the book so she could see what she was looking at. “‘ _ I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars’ _ ,” she quoted while staring at the battered from cover. 

“Are you a fan?” Gilbert asked, the corner of his mouth tugging back up.

Feeling a bit deflated, she glanced at the man Mary’s Bash had vouched for. 

She hummed, placing the book of poems back in the box and continuing through the stack. “I have been reading more Wordsworth lately. When I get the chance…”

“William?” Gilbert asked, perking up a bit.

“Dorothy.”

“Ah. I can’t say I’m familiar,” he said regretfully.

“You wouldn’t be,” Anne said immediately before she allowed him a bit more information. “A patron left a copy of her journal at the boarding house. The matron allowed me to take it home as long as I return it if he comes back for it.”

“But you hope he doesn’t?” Gilbert guessed.

“I’m sure he could just buy another,” Anne muttered, looking away from Gilbert’s smile, especially when she tried to slyly pick up the book of poems he had commented on and hoped he didn’t notice. Based on his widening grin, he did. She just ignored him as she went inside the store, opening the door herself before he could try to do it, so she could pay. 

* * *

“Who was that man? You were walking with him? Two times. He was with Bash?”

Anne looked up from the sock she was darning and raised an eyebrow at Jackie. They saw more than they let on and it was easy to forget that fact.

“His name is Gilbert Blythe. He is friends with Bash. They will be going back home soon,” Anne answered, going back to her sewing.

“Going where?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t know him,” Anne sighed.

“Do you?” Jackie shot back.

Anne huffed, dropping her hands into her lap. “That does not matter. I said they’ll be leaving the boarding house soon, anyway.”

“He looks at you,” Jackie said, making a face.

“He has eyes, he can do what he wishes with them,” Anne grumbled, tying off her thread before using her teeth to release the needle.

“He  _ looks _ at you.”

“Well, he won’t be able to when he leaves. And then we can go back to no one looking at me, alright?” Anne asked dryly and getting a grumble thrown back at her in return.

* * *

Anne slipped through the halls quietly, making no sound except for the quiet hiss of the lamps along the walls igniting and the barely there click of the glass settling back into place. The muted sounds, or lack of sounds entirely, brought on by the twilight outside were welcome after a long day that wasn’t quite over, the end of her shift hanging on and refusing to let go just yet. But the silence was what made Anne jump so hard when a door slammed not far behind her.

The box of matches she had in her hand fell as she spun around and they slid across the floorboards she had mopped just hours before.

“Did I frighten you?” an unfamiliar man said as he walked towards her, highlighted only by the lamps she had just lit, his heavy boots easily crunching atop the matches before she could pick them up.

“Excuse me,” Anne murmured, dropping her gaze and stepping to the side so she could slip past him to escape through the door at the end of the hall labeled ‘employees only’.

The man’s hand shot out and grabbed onto Anne’s upper arm, his grip so tight it made her gasp. 

“Excuse me… what?” he asked lowly, bringing his face much too close to hers and making her heart begin to beat that much faster.

“... Sir,” Anne grit out, keeping still like a mouse waiting for the opportunity to hide from its predator.

The man let her go so suddenly that she stumbled, barely able to keep herself on her feet. If asked, she couldn’t identify what she was thinking in that moment. But she knew that she needed to get away from this man almost as much as she needed to get back to work. 

Before Anne knew it, she was being shoved against the wall so hard her vision blurred. Any sound she made was now muffled by a rough palm held over her mouth, firm enough to make it hard to breathe. He was pinning her with a forearm across her chest, hard enough to bruise, but he shifted just enough for Anne to pull her arm away. She may have elbowed him in the nose, but it was hard to tell in the dim hallway and the way the lamps threw the shadows. What she did do was jerk her arm up and somehow smash the lamp not far from her head, the glass breaking, and slicing into her arm, but also shattering loud enough to echo through the hall, just as the man started to pull her away towards the door he had slammed what felt like an eternity ago.

“Hey!” a voice shouted, causing the man to shove Anne away from him and onto the ground, at the perfect angle for her head to bounce against the unforgiving wood floor… that she had mopped not long ago…

* * *

Anne jerked away with the sickening feeling of falling, but the pounding going on inside her head just made her whimper in pain and keep her eyes squeezed shut.

There was rustling near her of someone moving, much too loudly in her opinion at that very moment, and then she felt someone sit beside her before something cold was slowly laid on her forehead, causing her to make another noise but her eyes relaxed just a little.

“Is she awake?” a voice hissed, causing her to flinch.

Someone shushed the voice, quietly before the weight beside her lifted and that person stepped away.

Anne tried to take deep, even breaths but her headache persisted. But she knew she was in a room, much too warm to be her own, with at least two other people, and she couldn’t abide by not knowing. So she tried to blink open her eyes, the room she was in thankfully kept dark with only a candle lighting up the immediate vicinity somewhere out of her line of sight. The first thing she saw was Jackie, on the floor a few paces from her bed and staring at her like a goblin in the night. Their face lit up when they saw her eyes squinting their way but, also thankfully, they didn’t say anything. 

Jackie looked towards another part of the room and Anne’s gaze slowly followed. She was in one of the boarding rooms, she could tell, and whoever else was there had his back to her by the vanity.

She tried to say something but all that came out was a weak groan, but it did get the attention of the room’s other occupant.

Gilbert turned and stepped back towards her in his day clothes, sleeves rolled to his elbows and shoes off, his footsteps almost silent as he got closer. 

“How are you feeling?” Gilbert asked, voice kept just below a whisper.

Anne thought about shaking her head but immediately rejected the very idea of moving in any way, especially if it might dislodge the cool cloth on her head.

“Shit,” Anne mumbled, surprising Gilbert so much his mouth dropped open and Jackie had to practically stuff their fist into their mouth to stop from laughing. 

Gilbert huffed. “Descriptive,” he muttered before plopping down on the ground beside the bed so he could continue speaking quietly but she could still hear him. “You hit your head fairly hard. And I had to give you a few stitches on your arm. Do you remember?”

Anne just groaned in the affirmative, her eyes falling shut again as she remembered the smell of that man’s hand over her nose. “Doctor?” she whispered.

Gilbert sighed. “I did my best. I don’t know if I told you, but I am planning on studying medicine? I’ve learned a few things on my travels… I did try to take you to Doctor Ward’s but… I encountered a road block,” he said wryly.

Anne’s brow furrowed minutely as she opened her eyes enough to squint at Gilbert. In answer, he pointed to Jackie who shuffled closer without leaving the ground. 

“I found this one outside, waiting for you. Um. He accused me of all sorts of things until I let him in. Wouldn’t let me get the doctor, though, but didn’t quite elaborate on why,” Gilbert said. “I do recommend that you let him examine you. I can do stitches but head injuries are not in my wheelhouse quite yet.”

“I couldn’t. Before,” Anne answered before squinting over at Jackie. “I taught them that.”

“Can you now, then?” Gilbert asked optimistically, shooting a glance at the kid making themselves at home in his room.

“Maybe,” Anne mumbled. “They still can’t.”

Gilbert turned his head to look at the child fully and the child just looked back unabashedly. 

“Huh,” Gilbert said, raising an eyebrow as it clicked why this kid clung to Anne so hard. 

“I don’t like you,” Jackie said suddenly and too loudly, making Anne wince again.

“You can dislike me quietly,” Gilbert accepted before gesturing to the other bed in the room. “Are you tired, yet?”

Jackie didn’t deign to give him an answer, but did scramble up and over to the bed, not one to turn down an offering like that.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Anne mumbled, her breathing slow and deep in this room twice the size of her own.

“It’s fine,” Gilbert dismissed, reaching up to turn the folded cloth on her head over to the cooler side. “How are you, really? Does anything else hurt? Do I need to call on anyone else except Doctor Ward?”

“Just my head. And my arm,” Anne answered, feeling like she was going to sink into the bed under this man’s gaze and attention. “There is no one.”

Gilbert stayed silent for a moment. “There is no one for me, either,” he confessed. “Except Bash.”

“Lucky,” Anne breathed, not thinking clearly enough to say more on the subject. She then jerked a little, almost waking herself up from the half-doze she was falling back into at her sudden thought. “Did I get blood on my uniform?”

Gilbert’s brow furrowed, perplexed. “What?”

“My boss… will fire me if I soil the uniform… or not show up tomorrow,” Anne fretted, frowning so hard the cloth on her forehead shifted.

“Your  _ boss _ ?” Gilbert asked incredulously. “Your boss will be hearing from me in the morning. You…  _ you were assaulted, Anne _ . It took me and Bash both to get him out of here to be carted off by an officer. If your boss tries to fire you for this, for getting hurt, I… I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You don’t know what you’ll do,” Anne repeated, his earnestness making her head hurt more. 

“You’ll need a few days’ rest, at the very least. I’ll get Doctor Ward to order it, even,” Gilbert said firmly.

“Where is Bash?” Anne asked, making Gilbert frown at the subject change. 

“At Mary’s,” he answered before quickly adding, “in her spare room, I believe.”

“Is this your bed?” Anne asked slowly and with difficulty.

“Yes,” Gilbert said, his cheeks heating up.

“You gave Bash’s to Jackie,” Anne observed, watching Gilbert look over at the knocked-out kid.

“I’ve slept in worse places than on the floor. I’ll need to keep an eye on you throughout the night,” Gilbert explained.

The worry in his face seemed so foreign to Anne. But it didn’t stop her eyes from falling shut as she succumbed to sleep, surrounded by warmth and a comfortable bed, as foreign to her as it was to Jackie.

* * *

Sometime later, time having no meaning in a room with the curtains drawn tight to block the sun, Anne blinked awake. She slowly, and with deep breaths in and out, sat up against the pillows so she could reach for the class of water left on the bedside table with her uninjured hand. 

“Don’t drink too fast,” Gilbert said from beside her on the floor as she gulped down half the glass.

“I’m thirsty,” Anne complained, her voice hoarse and her head still pounding. She slowly rested her head back on the headboard and then her glass was being slipped out of her grasp. 

“You can have more in a minute,” Gilbert said, setting the glass down on the bedside table and then sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for her injured arm so he could check his stitches. “Doctor Ward should be in his office soon, I’ll go get him and bring him back here.”

“I need to get back home,” Anne sighed, eyes on the angry red lines across her arm that Gilbert revealed as he unwrapped the bandages.

“We’ll see what the doctor says but I really don’t think you should be on your own right now,” Gilbert said, keeping his focus on his handiwork.

“I can’t stay here,” Anne scoffed. 

“Of course not. Bash and I are leaving today anyway. But Mary would probably allow you to stay with her for a few days,” Gilbert said as he slowly began to rewrap the bandages.

Anne frowned. “Today?” she asked, focusing on only part of what he said.

Gilbert looked up as he tied the ends of the bandage into place. “Yes. The repairs on my home are finished and I need to start teaching Bash about the orchard so he can take over while I study for my entrance exams,” he explained. 

“You have a house? And an orchard?” Anne asked, the idea of being in possession of land of any kind something she could barely even imagine. “Where is it?”

“Avonlea,” Gilbert said, making Anne look away immediately. “Do you know it?”

“I’ve heard of it,” she murmured.

“I’ve been away for a long time, but I think it will be good to go home,” Gilbert said absently, eyebrows furrowed like he was imagining other things in his head.

“Is it nice?” Anne asked before she could think better of it, her mind conjuring up alternate pathways from the past.

“It is,” Gilbert said, like it was the simplest and surest answer in the world. “I think you’d like it. I definitely appreciate it more now than I did when I left.”

“Why did you leave? If it’s so nice?” Anne asked, her headache making her blunt.

“Because it wasn’t so nice without my father in it,” Gilbert answered evenly. “I had to leave to remember that he’s still there. So to speak.”

Anne looked down at her hands, her freckles dimmed by a winter spent inside. She wondered what it would be like to have the ability to speak of a place, or even a person, so fondly. Missing something meant treasuring the time you had it. It was hard to miss something you never held and called your own. It was hard to imagine a place that was home for more reasons than just as a place to lay your head.

“Good luck, then,” Anne found herself saying, looking up at Gilbert through her eyelashes, not lifting her head. “At home, I mean.”

Gilbert didn’t say anything for a moment but he didn’t look away from her eyes. Eventually he said, still softly, “I’ll be making frequent trips down here. I am apprenticing with Doctor Ward. Would it be alright if I called on you sometime?”

Anne’s brow furrowed so hard it exacerbated her headache. “Why?” she asked without hesitating. 

Gilbert raised his eyebrows and looked rather bemused as he usually did when having a conversation with her. “Why not?” he asked, looking like he was almost about to smile.

“There are more reasons ‘why not’ than ‘why’,” Anne said scathingly, her voice still scratchy.

“Can I not just enjoy talking to you?” Gilbert asked, his head tilting slightly as he looked at her. 

“I believe I almost threw a work of Shakespeare at your head the first time we had a real conversation,” Anne said flatly.

“And why can’t I enjoy a nice conversation with someone that always keeps me on my toes?” Gilbert asked, now grinning at her. 

“Are you sure you aren’t the one that hit your head?” Anne mumbled before reaching over to pick up her glass of water so she could hide behind it.

* * *

The odds were in Anne’s favor that afternoon as she was, slowly, escorted to Mary’s home in the Bog. The weather was warming but that day was decidedly overcast, which suited her just fine with her raging headache and orders from Doctor Ward to rest. She couldn’t say she was happy about any of it, especially being forced to allow others to take care of her, but at least she had a job to return to after this (after the most respected citizen of Charlottetown gently persuaded her boss to allow it). 

She had a permanent shadow too, it seemed. She knew Jackie spent a lot of time watching without being seen, but now the kid was choosing not to hide as they watched Anne’s back. She was surprised Gilbert hadn’t asked more questions about them, but that was just one of the many gift horses she wasn’t going to poke at that very moment.

“Did you thank G— Mr. Blythe for letting you stay last night? And don’t think you can get away with it again, it would be rude to ask too much of Mary,” Anne lectured from Mary’s spare bed after she was left to rest but Jackie stubbornly remained.

“She said I could stay,” Jackie argued.

“But you mustn’t accept—”

“She said I had to.”

“Well—”

“I don’t wanna leave you,” Jackie whined, actually stomping their foot.

Anne closed her mouth and let out a breath through her nose as she leaned back against the pillows. “I’ll be fine in a day or two,” Anne reasoned.

“But what if… what if the bad man comes back?” Jackie asked, voice wavering and reminding Anne how young they were.

“He won’t,” Anne sighed even though she had no way of knowing that.

“And Gilbert—”

“Mr. Blythe.”

“He said to call ‘im Gilbert.”

“And I say not to be rude to someone who has been nothing but nice to us,” Anne shot back. “Especially when he didn’t have to be. Not someone of his standing.”

“What standin’?”

“Anywhere above us,” Anne huffed, letting her eyes shut as her fingers twitched as she held herself back from scratching her stitches through her bandages.

“What’s that mean?”

“He says he’s going to be a doctor. That makes him a well-respected member of society,” Anne explained, focusing on her breathing.

“What society?” Jackie asked slowly to repeat the word.

“This one.”

“Does it r’spect us?”

“No,” Anne said succinctly. 

“Why not?”

“Because it knows when people aren’t wanted,” she said, a touch too honestly.

When she didn’t get a verbal response, Anne opened her eyes to see Jackie with silent tears in their eyes. 

Anne sighed again and patted a spot beside her on the bed. “Come here,” she said softly, surprised by how quickly the kid complied, curling up beside her and resting their head on her knee. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry.”

Jackie sniffed. “What happened to my parents?” they asked out of the blue.

“I don’t know,” Anne said.

“What happened to yours?”

“I don’t know,” Anne lied. 

“Miss Mary said she was gettin’ married. Is she leavin’ us?” Jackie asked smally.

Anne’s eyes cut over to the closed door in surprise. “Did she tell you that?”

“I heard it.”

“Were you listening to something you shouldn’t have?”

“But does it? Is she leavin’?”

“Probably,” Anne said, not sure what Jackie thought they had for Mary to leave. Not with how often Anne pushed her away.

“Is that bad?”

“Bad for her?” Anne asked, her fingers absently running through Jackie’s ragged hair.

“Yeah.”

“No. I expect it’s good for her. Bash is nice,” Anne said even though she didn’t have any experience with which to compare Mary’s situation. All she knew was the life of the unwanted, surrounded by the unwanted.

“I’m cold,” they whispered and Anne just shifted the quilt on the bed so it enveloped their tiny frame.

* * *

“Anne?”

Anne blinked her eyes open from where she had just been resting them, sleep not yet pulling her under. Gilbert was sticking his head through the barely open door, his brow furrowed in hesitation and worry.

“I’m awake,” she said, shifting so she was sitting up just a bit more and making sure her robe was still closed over the nightgown Mary had let her borrow.

“Sorry,” Gilbert said, stepping inside but not moving closer. “I just— Bash and I are going to the train station now…”

Anne surprised herself with the reaction those words produced in her gut. She couldn’t name it, but it wasn’t nothing. 

“Thank you, then,” she said as her goodbye. “For helping me.”

“I just did what anyone would have done,” Gilbert argued.

Anne smiled, which made Gilbert frown. “Do you believe that?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Gilbert thought over his answer before he said, “I want to.”

“It’s a nice thought,” Anne allowed, her smile rueful. But nice thoughts couldn’t erase truths and build happy childhoods out of nothing.

“I meant what I said. I’ll be in Charlottetown every weekend. I would like to see you again. If you permit it,” Gilbert said, sounding as if he expected nothing short of a rejection.

“What would you do if I didn’t?” Anne asked, tilting her head.

“Well. I wouldn’t, then,” he frowned.

Anne hummed as she studied his face. “I reserve the right to change my mind at any time,” she said, watching as his eyebrows shot up.

“Of course,” he said. 

“Have a safe trip home, Gilbert,” Anne said, wondering if she had actually fallen asleep and she was just letting herself speak in her dream.

* * *

The next morning, Anne woke up with the sun and found  _ Cymbeline _ on the bedside table.

* * *

“Do I hafta get married?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Anne said, reaching over to straighten the jacket of the suit Jackie had been lent. 

“Whata ‘bout you?”

“What about me what?”

“Are you gonna get married?”

Anne laughed. “No,” she said incredulously. 

“Good,” Jackie said decisively.

“Indeed,” Anne said, shaking her head. “But we’re happy for Mary, remember? She’s happy and that’s a wonderful thing.”

“But she’s leaving.”

“I’ve heard Avonlea is a nice place, I’m sure she’ll be happy there.”

“Have you been?”

“Well, no.”

“You could visit,” a familiar voice said from behind her. 

Anne spun around, her Sunday best spinning at her ankles. “Gilbert,” she greeted. “Did you enjoy the ceremony?”

“I did,” he said, smiling at her. “I mean that, by the way. You could visit the orchard, we’d be happy to have you.”

“You know I couldn’t do that,” Anne sighed, feeling Jackie’s eyes as they watched the exchange.

“It could be a miniature vacation,” Gilbert smirked.

“I’ve barely heard the word before,” Anne scoffed, rolling her eyes at him and making him laugh right there in the church.

“Maybe I could help you with the definition. Over tea,” Gilbert suggested, his hands going into the pockets of his new suit.

“Didn’t you tell me that you were to be spending the summer studying?” Anne asked wryly.

“Vocabulary is a part of my study materials,” Gilbert said, his eyes almost twinkling with the smirk that threatened to take over his face. “I’m sure you could help me with the literature section. You were practically quoting a Bronte or two the last time we spoke, when I came to see how your arm was healing.”

“But I would be of no help whatsoever with the mathematical problems you’re sure to have, so I wouldn’t want to waste your time,” Anne said.

“Then I could show you how to do them,” Gilbert said as if the idea was the brightest he’d ever had.

“You’re meant to be studying, not teaching me,” Anne huffed.

“One needs to learn something well enough to teach it, so that’s practically studying in and of itself,” Gilbert said easily.

“It would be a waste of your time, what would I do with that information?” Anne asked disdainfully.

“You could take the entrance exam with me,” Gilbert said.

Anne started to laugh. Jackie frowned at Gilbert as if he was openly mocking them both.

“What’s so funny?” Bash asked as he and Mary walked up.

Anne shook her head, trying to stifle her giggles. “Nothing,” she brushed off before leaning forward to hug Mary, missing the look of surprise on the woman’s face. “Congratulations, Mary.”

“Thank you, Anne,” Mary said, taking Anne’s hand and giving it a squeeze as she stepped back. “I’m so pleased you could come. You too, Jackie.”

“A-anne says you’re happy,” Jackie blurted out, earning them an indulgent smile.

“I am,” Mary said as Bash smiled behind her. She glanced back at him before facing Jackie again. “Actually, there is something we wanted to talk to you about.”

Anne frowned in confusion. She caught Gilbert’s eye and he gave her a reassuring nod which did quite the opposite. 

Mary sat on a nearby pew to be on Jackie’s level and began by saying, “We don’t mean to spring this on you…”

“But our train leaves tomorrow,” Bash muttered.

“You know that I am going with Bash and Gilbert to Avonlea, yes?” 

Jackie frowned. “Yeah…”

“Would you like to come with us?” Mary asked, making Anne’s mouth drop and Jackie’s frown deepen.

“With you?” they asked.

“Well. Gilbert has actually been talking to someone that lives in Avonlea. She lost her husband some time ago and wishes she could have a child of her own, instead of just teaching other people’s. Do you understand?”

“Tommy said people want babies,” Jackie said, sounding confused.

“This lady is very nice,” Gilbert interjected, casting worried looks at a silent Anne before focusing back on Jackie. “And is very… open-minded.”

“Does…”

“She knows about your um… secret,” Mary said delicately. “And she’s okay with that. Do you think you would like to meet her? See if you like her? It would give you a chance to get off the streets. No more working at the docks or stealing dinner. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“Nice,” Jackie said slowly, repeating the adjective Anne constantly used. They then looked up at Anne and Anne forced herself to respond.

“I think that sounds like an amazing opportunity,” Anne said immediately, calling upon her skills to give the child a convincing smile. They took her word for it as they turned back to Mary. 

“Can I come back? If I don’t like it?” Jackie asked, wiping their nose on their sleeve before anyone could stop them.

“Of course,” Mary said, looking pleased. “No one wants to make you do anything you don’t want to do. But maybe you won’t want to come back, if you have another option.”

Jackie shrugged as the idea visibly tumbled over in their head.

And before Anne knew it, everyone was bustling out of the church, any familiar faces getting lost in the crowd as she held back so she was the last to leave. It felt like her head was full of wool and she had to remind herself to keep moving as she watched the feet of those ahead of her walk out into the warm air.

“I should’ve warned you,” Gilbert said, appearing at her side and making her blink up at him as his presence slowly registered. 

“No. It’s alright,” Anne said absently, her eyes just catching glimpses of Jackie running with a few other kids, their pale skin making them stand out.

“Are you? Alright, I mean?” Gilbert asked.

“I’m fine,” Anne said automatically.

“Really? I was serious about the exam—” Gilbert started, cutting himself off at the blank look she gave him and making him choose his battles for the moment. “But. Jackie. It’s a good thing, right? Good for uh, them.”

“It is,” Anne said, failing to sound as convincing as she had before.

“Did you want them to stay with you…?”

Anne shook her head. “I can’t take care of a child,” she said. “I mean it. This is good. They need it. I don’t know if they would have lasted as long as I did.”

“But you needed it, too,” Gilbert said softly.

“I made my choices,” Anne shrugged off. 

“Were you older—”

“I was their age. I had my opportunities. I made my own decisions with my last one. No need to worry, I’m in a dress again, I’m following the rules,” Anne said wryly.

“No one cares about that,” Gilbert started before amending himself at the second dry look she threw his way. “I don’t care about that. I care about whatever is making you upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

“You’re not alright, though.”

“I’m as I’ve always been,” Anne said simply. Which was the truth. She spent so long not letting people get close, if any dared to look her way, that she shouldn’t be surprised when they eventually leave. She couldn’t fault Mary nor Jackie on getting something nice in this lifetime. There had to be some people in this world that wanted and were wanted in return. But that also meant that there were plenty of people that were the opposite. Anne Shirley had learned her place early on and she hadn’t even needed Gilbert’s expensive textbooks for that.

“But you could be better,” Gilbert said, watching Anne closely enough that he stopped just as she did.

“Is that your professional opinion?” Anne asked tartly, crossing her arms. 

“No—”

“Then I’m not sure why it’s any of your business.”

“I’m— If you want, you can talk to me—”

“I think I’ve made it perfectly clear that I can get by on my own without you trying to get inside my head, Gilbert Blythe. And yes, you’ve done well meddling with Jackie’s life. But they are a child and I am not. I don’t think you gifting me a few novels is going to pick me up out of the streets,” Anne said, her voice dangerously even. “I’m not sure what it is you want from me—”

“I don’t  _ want  _ anything.”

“Everyone wants something, Gilbert,” Anne snapped. “Especially future doctors from idyllic little towns trying to make something of themselves. You have your opportunities, but don’t fool yourself into thinking it’s a multi-person ride. Spending time around someone like me will just drag you down, and then where will you be?”

“Anne—”

“Good evening,” Anne said firmly, spinning around and doing what she did best: running away.

* * *

Jackie snuck into the boarding house the day after Mary’s wedding and gave Anne the longest hug she could remember ever receiving, before running back out and through the dirt that made up the dregs of Charlottetown. And that was the last time Anne saw them as summer continued and the heat began to bear down onto those working in the city that had no time to spare to take breaks in the shade of trees that did not exist where they spent their time. 

Anne thought of the kid often, but assumed no news was good news, as their new guardian didn’t send them packing back to the city (unless they were sent to an asylum instead). But Anne didn’t trust much, let alone people, but she hoped that Mary was reliable enough to do right by that kid that kicked against the status quo more than Anne could ever dream to. Not that she dreamt much as of late, the nights spent in her sweltering room that did nothing but gather heat throughout the day not conducive for a good night’s sleep. 

She had refrained from seeing any overly familiar faces, and one in particular, after her outburst after the wedding, but Anne knew what little luck she had, which wasn’t much, would run out sooner rather than later. 

So as she crossed the main street that ran through Charlottetown to deliver a letter to the post office on behalf of her boss, she wasn’t especially surprised to hear someone call out her name.

Stopping, and sighing, Anne then turned around. And frowned. Because it was a familiar face, but not the one she expected.

“Good afternoon, Bash,” Anne said politely.

“Miss Shirley,” Bash said, tipping his hat as he gave her a peculiar look. “I trust you’ve been well.”

“Yes,” Anne said, watching as Bash glanced at the people that glanced at them, or him talking to her to be more specific.

“Then you have no reason not to accept my invitation to dinner,” Bash said calmly.

“What? Well, no, I have work—”

“Does this matron of yours make you work on the Lord’s day?”

“Of course not—”

“Then my friend Gilbert, if you remember him, will be more than happy to escort you to Avonlea on the Saturday evening train,” Bash said with finality. “Mary has been asking after you, she would love to have you as our guest.”

“I couldn’t possibly—”

“In fact, you’ll be doing me a favor,” Bash insisted. “I think she’s a bit tired of sharing a house with two men already. So. This Saturday, six o’clock train. Have a good day, Miss Shirley!”

And then Bash was gone, leaving Anne gaping at his back.

* * *

Anne didn’t know what she would’ve done if her shift at the boarding house hadn’t lined up with Bash’s plans, but she somehow found herself on the train platform bench, almost all of her possessions in her one carpetbag in her lap.

“Anne?”

Anne sighed and looked up into Gilbert’s confused face.

“Did Bash not tell you?” Anne asked, her expression mimicking his.

“Tell me what?”

Anne sighed again. “He has invited me to visit. I figured he’d drag me there himself if I didn’t cooperate,” she said a bit uncharitably. No one could make her go anywhere she didn’t want to, not anymore, but she had almost talked herself out of it more than once in the days leading up to Saturday.

“Oh,” Gilbert blinked. “Good. That’s good. I— Mary will be pleased.”

“So he said…”

Gilbert gestured to the bench she was sitting on and she silently moved over so he could join her as they waited for the train to arrive.

“It’s good to see you,” Gilbert said hesitantly.

“You too,” Anne said, her eyes moving across the platform to take in all the people and their various fashions. “How… how is your apprenticeship?”

“It’s going well,” Gilbert said, sitting up a bit. “I don’t do much, truth be told, but I am learning quite a lot from Doctor Ward. I was lucky he allowed me to shadow him. He says it should give me a bit of a leg up once school begins.”

“Good,” Anne said before allowing her gaze to fall on him beside her. “I’m glad.”

Gilbert seemed to study her for a moment before he smiled, just as the train horn sounded and the station crowd began moving in anticipation for the train’s arrival.

Once they were settled on the train, Gilbert sitting opposite her against the window, Anne chose to swallow some of her pride as she spoke up.

“And how is Jackie?” she asked slowly, eyes out the window.

“They’re doing well,” Gilbert said honestly. “They like Miss Stacy. Or so they say.”

“Good,” Anne said again, swallowing roughly. “Good.”

“Anne,” Gilbert started, keeping his voice low. “I’m sorry I pried—”

“No,” Anne shook her head, looking down at her hands. “I’m sorry I got so angry…”

“It was understandable—”

“But uncalled for—”

“It was a sudden change—”

“My whole life has been sudden changes, I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” Anne huffed. “I guess… green isn’t really my color…”

“I think you’d look lovely in green,” Gilbert said, purposely misunderstanding her so she’d glare at him instead of at her hands. “You’ll see Jackie in church tomorrow, if you attend with us. They’ll be happy to see you too.”

Anne just shrugged as the train began to move. “You probably use this time to study,” she said, gesturing to the train around them.

“I don’t need to—”

“No, don’t let me break your routine,” Anne said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a slim book and going out of her way to not acknowledge the smirk on his face when he saw what it was. “I don’t get much time to read, anyway.”

“Okay,” Gilbert said, his smirk not going away as he opened his own books as the train left Charlottetown.

* * *

Bash had been at the Bright River train station to greet them, wisely keeping his comments to himself when he saw Anne. Thankfully, he allowed her to sit in the back of the buggy and kept his conversations between him and Gilbert in the front, for Anne wasn’t sure she had anything to say as she silently took in the views of an Avonlea summer evening by the light of the setting sun. She almost loathed to think of stepping outside the next morning as she couldn’t fathom being able to handle seeing this place in the full light of day.

Almost too soon, and yet not soon enough, Anne arrived at the Lacroix/Blythe orchard where the house held nothing but warmth, from the smoke emitting from above the kitchen and the windows lit by candles and lamps. Anne stayed back as Bash and Gilbert led her towards the front door. If she thought she could get away with it, she seriously considered just refusing to enter for some slightly hysterical reason. As it was, Gilbert and Bash entered the home and she had no choice but to follow.

Inside, Mary was bustling around the kitchen, ordering the two men to wash up from their travels then set the table. It took her a moment to notice there was an extra person in the room after Bash closed the door behind Anne, but when she did, she let her wooden spoon clatter into the pot on the stove.

“Anne,” Mary said, the tears visibly welling in her eyes making Anne’s widen as she stood there stiffly.

Abruptly, Mary was hugging her so suddenly that Anne dropped her bag on the floor. Anne found Bash over Mary’s shoulder and gave him a slightly panicked look, but he and his grin were absolutely no help, and Gilbert had abandoned her, with his own stupid smile, to go get out of his travel clothes. All Anne could do was inexpertly hug Mary back and hope it was enough.

“I’m sorry,” Mary sniffed, pulling back and wiping at her eyes while laughing at herself a little. “It’s just so good to see you. I had been worried… Well, anyway, it’s been a bit trying… I can’t imagine how you spent so much time around boys for so long.”

Bash let out a noise of indignation from where he was placing plates on the table that made Mary roll her eyes. 

“Um. It wasn’t really— I mean. Thank you for having me,” Anne stammered, still a bit startled by this display of emotion. “I didn’t realize I was a... surprise.”

Mary shot Bash a look over her shoulder, which did nothing to dissuade his grin. “I can’t say my emotions have been as easy to handle lately,” she sighed before the corner of her mouth twitched and she leaned a bit closer to Anne. “Now, it’s a bit soon to be telling any of the girls at the laundry, but… I’m pregnant!”

“Oh!” Anne blinked. She honestly had no idea what to say, the idea seemed so otherworldly. She took in the growing smile on Mary’s face, the perpetual grin on Bash’s that had turned almost proud, and the one in Gilbert’s face as he walked back into the kitchen. Being happy, excited even, about a pregnancy was something that hadn’t really ever occurred to her, but these people seemed ecstatic. “Con- congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Mary said genuinely, grabbing Anne’s hands and giving them a squeeze before tugging her away from her bag and the door and further into the home. “You two are just in time for dinner. I wasn’t expecting a guest—”

“Sorry—”

“Nonsense, you’re welcoming anytime,” Mary insisted. “We’ll make do just fine. Now wash up then take a seat next to Gilbert.”

“Smells great, Mary,” Gilbert grinned as he pulled a chair out for Anne after she washed her hands in the sink. 

“Don’t flirt with my wife,” Bash teased, making Mary hit him with her dishtowel before they began bringing the food to the table together.

Anne could just watch as these three, this family, talked and joked and sincerely enjoyed each other’s company. Gilbert took pity on her and monopolized the conversation at the start, telling everyone whatever dinner-friendly thing he had learned that day and allowing Bash to tease him like they had been siblings for decades instead of just a few years. Anne had been at many different kinds of houses and tables throughout her life, but this threw her off just a touch. She had watched seemingly happy families together from afar, but watching from this close made her uneasy, like she was intruding. But she couldn’t be intruding, because Mary had seemed so pleased to see her, which was another thing that threw her off kilter. It made Anne uncomfortable to think about Mary genuinely liking her, especially with the ways Anne had kept her at arm’s length for so long, just under the assumption that that was what everyone would want of her. But here she was, in this warm home with these people that were now asking her questions that they maybe actually wanted answered. It made her feel dizzy, but she also knew not to squander such a good meal, a free meal, and ate her fill despite her rolling stomach.

Later that evening, the rest of the household had gone to bed, leaving Anne with what Mary had told her was Gilbert’s father’s old room. But she wasn’t in it.

After dinner, Gilbert had pulled out a few of his textbooks to take some notes as everyone else had continued to talk amongst themselves. Anne had done her best to contribute, but found her eyes falling to the books more often than not. Now, alone in the kitchen with a single candle, Anne couldn’t stop herself from opening the books Gilbert had left there and dragging her finger down the table of contents as she absorbed each chapter title.

She heard a creak behind her and thought it to be a testament of how unthreatening this house was as she only flinched a little, and didn’t turn around.

“Do you need anything?” Gilbert asked, stepping off the stairs behind her.

“Sorry,” Anne said, closing the book she was looking at and shifting in the chair just enough to see that Gilbert was standing there in his trousers and undershirt.

“No, you’re fine,” Gilbert said, keeping his voice low as he walked closer. “I just wanted to make sure we didn’t leave anything lit down here. You’re welcome to whatever you can find, really.”

Anne shook her head but let her gaze fall back to the books on the table.

“Did I tell you that Jackie can read now?”

Anne looked up at Gilbert to find his eyes on her hair that she had absently taken down from where she had it pinned, letting it fall over her shoulder. “Really?”

“They took to it better than Miss Stacy expected, I heard,” Gilbert said, looking back at her face and silently sitting in the chair across the table from her, giving her her space.

Anne’s brow furrowed as she looked down again, absently tracing the edges of Gilbert’s history book. “Will… the baby go to school?” Anne asked slowly.

“Of course,” Gilbert said even though the topic had never come up before.

“I taught Jackie a lot of things,” Anne said, her tone as distant as her gaze. “But I didn’t teach them anything like this…”

“I don’t expect there is much time for history when you’re focused on your next meal,” Gilbert said brashly, making Anne hum absently in agreement.

She stayed silent as her thoughts spun in her head, brow still furrowed as she stared into the distance with unfocused eyes. She thought of Mary and Bash’s baby. That it would be brought into this world and the first thing it would see would be smiles. Anne had been there for a few births in her lifetime and she had begun anticipating the disdain that the babies would encounter when placed into not-so-welcoming arms. But that was her experience in the past, and Mary’s baby was making her think of the future, something just as foreign to her as appreciated pregnancies. 

As a child, Anne had quite a few hopes for the future that were dashed, one by one, as her life became more and more centered around the present. As Gilbert said, the furthest she thought was in regards to dinner or the upcoming date on which her rent was due. But now, she could only think of Jackie and Mary’s baby and the future they would have with such knowledge in their heads, granted to them by parents and teachers willing to give them a chance. Anne never had anyone to give her such things, but could she give them to herself?

She spent so long hiding under the noses of others and faking it to get by, acting like something she wasn’t. She spent her whole life pretending: pretending she was a princess trapped outside a fairytale, pretending she was wanted, pretending to be a boy, pretending to be a maid frozen in place within the mud of Charlottetown.

Maybe she could continue to pretend, to believe in whatever fanciful idea Gilbert Blythe had of her. 

Jackie seemed to be trying, maybe she could too. She could pretend to be something other than what she was told to be, and see where it took her.

Anne’s eyes quickly cut to Gilbert, silently sitting across from her, never moving his gaze.

“I could help you study,” she allowed, and the way Gilbert’s face lit up made her stomach clench.

“Yes,” he said, too loudly, tugging one of his books towards him as if he wanted to begin now.

“Maybe if I learn how to do math, I can solve you,” Anne said without meaning to, even though she meant it, her eyes on this boy that made no sense to her.

Gilbert’s eyebrow quirked and he gave her a bemused smile. “I’m not that complicated,” he said. “Not like you.”

“I’m not much of a riddle,” Anne scoffed lightly.

“You’re a poem,” Gilbert said as if the idea just occurred to him but he shared it unabashedly. “Each line has meaning, but they all come together to create something with such depth.”

“Now you’re just making things up,” Anne said, shaking her head.

“Just telling you what I see,” he said easily before moving to sit beside her so they could look at the textbooks together. And Anne didn’t dare move or tell him it was too late. She just took what he was offering, knowing, based on her experiences, it was a gift she couldn’t possibly ever be offered twice.

* * *

After staying up late going over the topics Gilbert said Jackie’s Miss Stacy had given him in preparation for the entrance exams, Anne woke up tired and apprehensive. She already knew there was quite a bit she didn’t know, but seeing the extent of it was daunting. But Gilbert seemed unphased and optimistic, which baffled Anne, but she had agreed to at least try (and privately figured that he would be free to give up on her once he was off at school come the fall). And while she was tired, as Gilbert had to be as well, it would be rude of her to sleep in when she could hear and smell that breakfast was being made to prepare them for morning service.

After getting dressed in what she had worn to Bash and Mary’s wedding, Anne exited the bedroom she had been loaned and entered the kitchen. 

“Anything I can help you with, Mary?” Anne asked the woman busying herself with cracking eggs.

“Can you cook better than Gilbert over there?” Mary asked without looking at her.

“By that she means can you make anything other than bland oatmeal?” Bash asked dryly from where he was finishing with the potatoes he was chopping.

“Yes,” Anne said hesitantly as Gilbert huffed from the table but didn’t argue with their teasing.

“I’m just giving him a hard time,” Mary said, giving Anne a kind smile. “You’re our guest, please sit, we’ll have this ready in no time.”

“Really, I can—”

“You can sit down and study with Gilbert,” Mary insisted, leaving no room for arguments and pointing a blushing Anne towards the table.

“You told them about that?” Anne muttered at Gilbert as she did as she was bid.

“He’s very excited,” Bash stage whispered before dodging Gilbert and taking the potatoes to the stove.

“I’m not sure if this will accomplish what you think it will,” Anne said as she took the textbook Gilbert handed her. 

“We’ll see, then, won’t we?” Gilbert shrugged.

“Gilbert was just telling us a rumor about one of the teachers at the Avonlea school, the one for the younger kids, thinking about retirement,” Bash said nonchalantly, but pointedly, as he poked at the potatoes on the stove.

Alarmed, Anne looked at Gilbert, who just shrugged again and blatantly changed the subject.

After breakfast was finished, and Bash tore Gilbert away from his books, they all made themselves comfortable in the Blythe buggy and started towards the church. It seemed like the journey had been perfectly timed, as they arrived just before the service began and went directly to the back and the pew closest to the door. At first, Anne thought that a few too many of the townsfolk were staring at her, a stranger in their midst, but she realized, from the way Mary and Bash were holding themselves, that it wasn’t her they were staring at.

“I thought you said this town was nice,” Anne whispered to Gilbert as they stood with their hymnals once bid to do so. 

“I thought so,” Gilbert muttered, spending most of the service meeting the eye of anyone looking back at them and glaring until they turned around.

Once the service was over, Anne felt something akin to anger and almost expressed it as they started to leave, but her path to the exit was suddenly blocked.

“You’re here!” Jackie exclaimed much too loudly for a church, but obviously cared very little as they ignored the sneers and threw themselves at Anne so hard she stumbled back into Gilbert who had to take her shoulder to keep her upright.

“Hello,” Anne said automatically, taken aback by the enthusiasm of the greeting and the tightness of the arms around her waist.

“Miss Muriel didn’t know if you’d visit but I had to learn my letters to write to you. She said she’d buy me a stamp! We went to town and looked at telegrams, do you know how to do a telegram? They sound funny, but I could read ‘em! I can spell my name, too! I can spell ‘Andrew’ but she said to ask you how’ta spell your other name! Sh-she said… um… Is there a ‘E’ innit?” Jackie rambled as they stared up at Anne with wide eyes, as if Anne would disappear if they looked away.

Anne gaped a bit at the kid and the clean clothes they wore and their hair that was longer than Anne ever allowed it to get, for safety. It had only been a few months since Anne had seen them last, but they looked like they had gotten taller, like they got three meals a day, every day.

“With an ‘E’,” Anne said eventually, making Jackie grin up at her. Like Mary’s tears from the night before, Jackie’s exuberance surprised her. It made her wonder if she had left more of an impression on this kid’s life than she previously thought, especially if they were thinking about her for even a moment while in their new life. “Um. I’m… very proud of you. For learning to read. I would like to receive a letter from you one day…”

“I was gonna write about the cows and the baby horse I met, but you’re here so I can show you,” Jackie said, spinning around to look through the mass of people giving them a wide berth as they left the building and singling one person out. “Mr. Cuthbert!”

“Inside voices,” Anne hissed, grabbing the back of Jackie’s shirt and keeping them from running away. She ignored the chuckling Gilbert behind her.

No one missed Jackie’s call and it seems to attract the desired person as an older man stepped out of the crowd and greeted Jackie with an indulgent smile.

“Mr. Cuthbert,” Gilbert greeted, stepping forward from where he had been hovering behind Anne. “Good afternoon.”

“Gilbert, good to see you,” the man said gruffly but not harshly. He then looked at Anne. “And you must be Miss Shirley.”

“Oh,” Anne said, surprised. “Yes, I—”

“Mr. Cuthbert lives at Green Gables,” Jackie informed Anne. “Near Miss Mary, now. His horse had a baby and he lets me visit it! Wanna see?”

“You can’t invite people to other people’s homes,” Anne started, gently poking the kid to make her point.

“Ah, well. You are welcome to,” Matthew said hesitantly before glancing at Gilbert. “We are neighbors, after all.”

“I’m just visiting, I wouldn’t want to disrupt your day,” Anne backpedaled. 

“Actually, I would appreciate your input, Mr. Cuthbert. Bash and I are working to get the orchard on the right track before the harvest,” Gilbert said.

“I’ll have to ask Marilla, but I don’t see any reason for you not to stop by after lunch,” Matthew said.

“And you’ll need to ask Miss Stacy,” Anne said to Jackie who looked far too pleased with the new plans. “You can’t go wherever you want anymore.”

“That’s a work in progress,” a woman said as she walked up, giving Jackie an amused look. “But we’re trying, yes?”

“Yes,” Jackie said dutifully.

The woman greeted Mr. Cuthbert, Gilbert, and Mary and Bash (who had come back inside to see what was taking them so long), and then turned to Anne. “You must be Miss Shirley, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” she said, holding out her hand. “Muriel Stacy, but please, call me Muriel.”

“Anne, please,” Anne replied, shaking the woman’s hand and trying not to make it obvious that she could tell that this woman wasn’t wearing a corset. “I um. I’ve been hearing great things about you during my visit. I realized I should have thanked you in some way for taking Jackie in…”

“No thanks needed,” Miss Stacy said, smiling down at Jackie and giving them a wink. “I think we’re doing well so far.”

“Anne is going to study for the entrance exams with me,” Gilbert boasted. “I’m sure she’d appreciate a bit of advice from a real teacher.”

“Oh, no, I’m just helping him—”

“I’d love to!”

“You can draw up a plan of action while Bash and I discuss farming techniques—”

“That sounds boring too, can I show you the horses?” 

“I’ll ask Marilla to be prepared for a few more for tea.”

And Anne became so overwhelmed she had to excuse herself and step outside and to the side, thankful that not many parishioners were loitering any longer.

She took a deep breath, leaning against the wall of the church, and found the view of endless nature around her didn’t help much to ease the tightness she felt in her lungs. Footsteps found her after a while, coming around to the side of the church she was now sitting against

“Are you alright?” Gilbert asked, sitting on a rock beside her.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically.

“A bit much, then? And you didn’t even meet Rachel Lynde,” Gilbert teased gently.

“They all knew who I was. And were acting like I belonged there as much as they did,” Anne whispered, feeling like the water was rising over her head.

“Don’t you?”

“Of course not.”

“Do Mary and Bash?”

“What? Of course they belong here—”

“Then why shouldn’t you?”

“Because I don’t belong anywhere,” Anne snapped before her mouth shut with an audible click. She then put her head in her hands so she didn’t have to look at Gilbert’s face.

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right place yet,” Gilbert said softly after a moment.

“Not all of us can be world travelers,” Anne answered with a mumble.

“Maybe you don’t have to go that far. Maybe it’s less about the place… and more about the people? I didn’t feel like coming back until it occurred to me to bring Bash with me…” Gilbert said carefully.

“Your optimism is cloying,” Anne murmured into her hands.

“I like to think it’s just… a bit of hope. You should try it,” Gilbert said, the smile in his voice betraying the twinkle in his eye she didn’t see.

“I stopped getting lost in fairy tales a long time ago, Gilbert,” Anne said.

“Not all things in books are fictional. Some are based in truth,” Gilbert suggested. 

“How can you tell the difference?” Anne asked, sitting up so she could give him a flat look.

“You’ll have to take the chance, I guess.”

“Chances aren’t safe.”

“They’re safer when you’re not alone.”

Anne opened her mouth to argue but her words dried up when faced with the look on Gilbert’s face as he stood and held out his hand to help her up, which she found she couldn’t refuse.

* * *

While Anne knew she had sort of agreed to this, if someone asked her how she ended up in Avonlea every weekend for the rest of the summer months, she really couldn’t explain it. But every Saturday evening, without fail, Gilbert Blythe was there to escort her to the train station, to get on a train, and spend the ride across the island studying, which they continued once they arrived at the orchard for the night and throughout the next day. Anne witnessed Mary’s stomach growing almost as fast as Anne’s understanding of the textbooks she was sent back with to Charlottetown for the week. If she thought she had little free time before this, in between her shifts at the boarding house, she somehow found enough spare seconds in her days to fill them with mathematical equations and maps of the districts. She was exhausted, and the heat that settled over her each night in her cramped room helped very little, but… the look on Gilbert’s face when she answered a math problem correctly sometimes kept her up even later into the warm summer nights.

What surprised her even more (for  _ something _ had to stick in her brain with all the studying she did, she had to admit) was the way it felt whenever she arrived in Avonlea. She would sometimes get looks from those she didn’t know, but the few people she did know made her feel more welcome than Anne had ever been in her life. She knew it was a risk, and  _ she knew better _ , but she allowed herself to get comfortable. For what else was she to do when greeted with a hug from Mary and a hot meal every Saturday night? What else was she to do when strict Marilla Cuthbert welcomed her and Miss Stacy’s odd little charge into her home so they could spend time with animals that were treated better than Jackie ever was out in the streets of Charlottetown? What else was she to do as Miss Stacy commended a pseudo homework assignment she had been given and Gilbert Blythe didn’t even try to hide the smile he had on his face because of her? She really did not know what to do, so she just let it happen. When it crumbled around her, maybe she could write it all down and treat it like a story that had always been too good to be true, but one she could sometimes look back on if it didn’t hurt too much.

There were even times Gilbert allowed himself to be seen walking with her in Charlottetown when she wasn’t at the boarding house and he wasn’t at Doctor Ward’s. She saw more of the town than she had since she stopped wearing pants on these walks, both of them lost in the memorization of information they tossed back and forth, not caring where their feet took them. Her favorite times were the odd mornings she had free, during which she proved that she at least could spell better than Gilbert, much to her delight. 

But Anne couldn’t possibly be distracted by spelling or even the stupid smiles on Gilbert’s stupid face as she paced across the Lacroix/Blythe kitchen the morning of the exam.

She had had to pretty much bribe another one of the maids to take her shift so she could go to Avonlea to take the entrance exam with Gilbert and the rest of Miss Stacy’s students that were eligible that year. (Thankfully, she was too nervous to even consider being embarrassed by a large group of sixteen-year-olds. She knew she was going to embarrass herself in front of way more people with this test, and a bunch of kids were at the bottom of the list.)

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” Anne asked, her voice rising in her hysteria. “I was just meant to be helping  _ you _ .”

“Because you said you want to do better for yourself,” Gilbert said patiently as he sat at the kitchen table.

“And why did no one tell me how stupid that sounds?!”

“It’s not—”

“I am going to fail. Miserably. Miss Stacy won’t even want to give me my results. I’ll have wasted all her time, and yours—”

“No one wasted—”

“Maids don’t go to college, what was I  _ thinking _ —”

“You’re not just—”

“And if  _ hell freezes over _ and I pass, what will I do then? Walk around Charlottetown like I own the damn place?”

“You’ll go to Queens—”

“With what money? I can’t afford my room if I’m not working!”

“You’ll get a scholarship, Anne.”

“And then what? Walk around Charlottetown with my degree like I own the damn place?”

“You’ll become a teacher—”

“Who in their right mind would send their child to  _ me _ ?!”

“I would,” Mary said as she walked into the kitchen, her presence making Anne visibly wilt. “You need to breathe, sweetheart, no good will come of you making yourself dizzy and hitting your head on something.”

“What if my head injury—”

“Anne Shirley,” Mary said firmly, making Anne’s mouth shut. “Come here.”

When Anne did so, Mary pulled her into a hug, her stomach between them, and held Anne tightly until some of the tension left her body.

“Thanks,” Anne mumbled into Mary’s shoulder.

“You’ll do fine. If you don’t, who cares?” Mary said, pulling away and putting her hand under Anne’s chin to make her look up.

“I care,” Anne mumbled dejectedly.

“Good,” Mary firmly said before bodily spinning her around to face Gilbert. “Now, get going. Don’t forget a pencil.”

Anne gasped, realizing what she had forgotten, but a pen was being placed in her hand before she could do anything more. 

“Let’s go, Carrots,” Gilbert said with a wink and leading her and her distractingly angry retorts out the door.

* * *

Anne refused to discuss the exam with anyone, especially Gilbert, once it was over. He had tried to talk over a few of the short answer questions, but she wouldn’t say a word. She tried to push it all from her mind since it was officially out of her hands and there was nothing more she could do. She was familiar with this, at the least, and knew how to compartmentalize things that were out of her control. 

She had long since quit dreaming of “what-ifs” and “what-could-bes,” and she went back to work at the boarding house the day after the exam as if nothing was going to change. Because, based on her experience, it probably wouldn’t. 

Anne even kept to her usual side of the island and stopped making the weekly treks to Avonlea every weekend. She told herself that she shouldn’t have gotten caught up in the fanciful ideas of others as keeping one’s head in the clouds never did anyone any good. She could try to get a few rungs up the ladder, but actually making it to the top was only achievable by those that began up there or had a true leg up. She had gotten too comfortable with her visits to the orchard and had to remind herself of her place.

Which was why she was frozen in shock when someone had knocked on the door to the little room she rented, something she didn’t think had actually happened before. Slowly, Anne stood, trying to remember what day it was and if she had somehow missed the first. 

When she opened the door, though, it wasn’t her landlord.

“Anne,” Gilbert breathed, looking surprised to see her even though he was the one at  _ her _ door. 

“Gilbert,” Anne said, surprised. They just looked at each other for a good minute before Anne blinked and stepped aside. “Come in.”

“I shouldn’t…”

“No one cares around here,” Anne said, not saying that it was because her neighbors had their own businesses going on in their rooms and were too busy to pay attention to her.

Gilbert stepped into her room for the first time and Anne watched as he took in the tiny space but made no remarks about it. He then brought his attention back to her, his eyebrows revealing his worry.

“We haven’t seen you in a while,” he began.

“Oh. Well, I assumed you would be busy with getting ready for college and the harvest… and, you know, the baby…”

Gilbert’s brows just dipped even further. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have you over for dinner,” he said, sounding genuinely confused.

“I— You— well, you know I’m working,” Anne said with a frown, not sure if she was reading the slight hurt in Gilbert’s face correctly.

Gilbert didn’t say anything for a moment before he pulled two letters out of his pocket and handed them to her.

“One is from Jackie. The other is from the school board,” Gilbert said.

Anne blinked down at the envelopes in her hand, one unopened with her name painstakingly written across the front, the other opened with “Miss Muriel Stacy” printed evenly in the middle.

“Did you…”

“Miss Stacy opened it, I haven’t looked. She says that one is yours,” Gilbert said, raising an eyebrow.

“So you got yours, then?” Anne asked.

“I did.”

“And?”

“I passed,” Gilbert said evenly before gesturing to her results. “Your turn.”

“I can’t…”

“Sure you can.”

“You do it,” Anne demanded, setting Jackie’s letter down on the bed and thrusting the other into Gilbert’s hands. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to pretend like she didn’t care even as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She heard Gilbert pull a paper out of the thick envelope and she had to close her eyes.

“Anne,” Gilbert said, his voice reminding her to breathe. 

Anne emptied her lungs. “It’s alright, I didn’t expect—”

“You passed,” Gilbert said and her eyes shot open to see his grinning face.

“What?” she gasped. 

“You heard me,” he teased.

Anne shook her head in disbelief as she shot to his side so she could look at the results over his shoulder with her own two eyes. But he wasn’t lying. She had done well enough to pass the entrance exam. 

“Oh my god,” Anne breathed, feeling blood rising to her cheeks. “I can’t believe it.”

“I can,” Gilbert said, beaming at her when she turned her head to face him.

“Gil,” Anne whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from him now.

“Anne,” Gilbert said through his grin. “Congratulations. You’re going to Queens.”

And, before she knew it, she was being kissed.

The world felt far away as Anne stood in her stifling room with Gilbert’s lips on hers and his hand touching her face more gently than she had ever been touched before. High off the disbelief of her exam results, this too felt so unreal, like it had been created in her head, formed from the words in a book. She felt dizzy and didn’t know if she could attribute it to the heat, the lack of oxygen making its way to her lungs, the sudden good news, or the way it felt for Gilbert’s fingertips to trail across her jawline like she was made of glass.

The sudden thought ripped through her like shards breaking across the unforgiving ground and Anne jerked away as if the wounds on her arms were fresh instead of lingering scars.

“Anne,” Gilbert said, his eyes bright and eyebrows high in surprise as he caught his breath. Right as he looked as if he might say something more, about what just happened even, she cut him off. 

“I have to go to work,” she said, her stomach twisting into itself, feeling as if she was going to drown if she didn’t leave this room right away. So she did what she did best: she ran.

* * *

The next weekend, Anne rode to Avonlea with Gilbert to join him and his family for dinner, and to discuss scholarships with Miss Stacy after church the next day. And she didn’t bring up the kiss and Gilbert followed suit.

* * *

Anne could smell fall approaching in the air that wafted through the open window and into her room in the Queens University boarding house. The irony of it all was not lost on Anne. The seasons were on the brink of transformation, just as Anne’s life was flipped on its head. 

She sat in this room, one she was not being paid meagre wages to clean any longer, paid for by anonymous benefactors that for some reason enjoyed giving their money away to students in need. She was surely taking advantage of such a thing now, but couldn’t help but wonder if these benefactors knew just how many people needed help in the parts of Charlottetown Anne was sure they never dared to visit. But here she was, bed made and floor scrubbed, in new clothes (made for her by a woman she couldn’t refuse, pregnant or not) and facing the unknown task of beginning her studies surrounded by people she could never hope to understand. She felt like a completely different person, but was she pretending again, or just finding out a part of her she never dared to crack open before? 

Again, looking in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself in this dress made of richer colors than she had ever seen grace her skin. Mary had even managed to impress Jackie with what she had created, making Anne think the child (now a teenager actually) might prefer a wider range of clothes if they were just in something other than dirt brown.

But it wasn’t just the clothes and the room. It was all of it. She was being given a place in a life that felt like someone else’s. Someone that had a future to look towards. (And she did, if Miss Stacy and her soon-to-be retired coworker were to be believed. But Anne wasn’t holding her breath just yet.) She had to take it one day at a time, if she didn’t want to start the semester with a panic attack. And today was already halfway towards the next, in which Anne Shirley will begin university. And hope that she will be able to complete it by the time summer rolls around again.

A knock on the partially open door made Anne turn to find the matron standing there. 

“You have a visitor in the parlor,” she sniffed. “Please inform him that normal calling hours are between two and four on Saturdays hereafter, Miss Shirley.”

“Um. Yes. Sorry,” Anne said, confused but following the matron out of her room and downstairs, even more confused to find Gilbert in the parlor, standing awkwardly with his hat in his hands.

“Good afternoon,” Gilbert said, his tone just as awkward as his stance as he glanced at the matron loitering by the stairs behind Anne. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

Anne was still confused but nodded anyway, this time following Gilbert out into the hall and out of the boarding house.

“Is everything alright?” Anne asked, trying to think of something that could have happened in the few days since she had last seen him when she had dinner at his home, Mary insisting that both new students make it a monthly tradition at the least and making sure Anne knew not to even try to flake out.

“Yes, everything is fine,” Gilbert assured her as they began walking down a part of Charlottetown that she had rarely frequented. “I just… thought a walk would be nice. Before classes begin. And we could… talk.”

“Okay,” Anne said, still sounding unsure. Then, “Actually. I believe I know what you’re going to say.”

“You do?” Gilbert asked, thankful Anne was keeping her gaze down so she missed how red his ears were turning.

“Yes. I don’t think I ever thanked you properly. For all you’ve done for me. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you,” Anne began, stopping at the edge of an open area of grass that their fellow students were already taking over. 

“Anne,” Gilbert said, sounding a bit distressed. He reached out to take her hand in his. “There’s no need to thank me. You’re the one that worked so hard. If anything, I should thank  _ you _ . I’ve never met anyone so inspiring, with your strength…”

“Gil…”

“I mean it. Being able to watch you grow like this… I’m thankful that I get to be near you for this, before I go off to medical school. I… well, I need you to know that I don’t expect anything of you. I simply… couldn’t, in good conscience, not reveal myself before we both begin this next journey,” Gilbert said, the emotion taking over his face as he gripped her hand. 

“Reveal…?” Anne breathed, almost unable to hear him over the way her heartbeat filled her ears.

“My heart,” Gilbert clarified. “I’m in love with you, Anne.”

“What?” Anne whispered through a gasp, her heart actually skipping a beat in shock.

“I don’t— I know there is probably a reason you never said anything about our kiss… I just thought you should know that it wasn’t something I’ve forgotten or… took lightly. You mean the world to me, Anne Shirley, and I thought you should know,” Gilbert said, looking a bit anguished at the worryingly blank look on her face. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Gilbert blinked. “Pardon?”

“You— you couldn’t  _ possibly _ …”

“I had hoped it wouldn’t be too much of a surprise,” Gilbert said slowly.

“Of course it’s a surprise. Because you don’t mean it,” Anne said resolutely, pulling her hand from his and taking a step back from him, looking away from the flash of hurt that passed over his face. 

“Anne…”

“I won’t… I won’t hold this… lapse of judgment against you,” Anne said, swallowing roughly against the lump in her throat as she looked anywhere but at Gilbert. “I n-need to get back. We’ll both need to get some rest for orientation in the morning.”

And Anne turned around and started back towards her boarding house, not looking back at Gilbert, even when he called after her one more time. For she didn’t need to do any studying to do what she already knew: run away.

* * *

Anne had made the assumption that once classes began and Gilbert was surrounded by the kinds of people that he should spend his time with, he would, maybe slowly but definitely eventually, move on from whatever idea he had of her in his head. 

But that did not happen.

They were taking classes at Queens that could not be any more different in terms of subjects, but Gilbert somehow found a way to study with Anne whenever their schedules allowed, much like they had all summer long. She rarely ever sat alone in the Queens library, for he was always there. They did not always talk, both silently agreeing that their studies came first, but he was there.

He also arrived at the boarding house at two o’clock in the afternoon, on the dot, every single Saturday. Even if he was going to be there just a few hours later anyway to escort her to the train for their monthly visits to the orchard. And even if it was just to escort her to the library where they sat in silence, heads bent over their work. 

Anne knew what he was trying to accomplish, though he never brought it up as the semester wore on, but she found she didn’t have the heart to tell him to go away when he was the only friend she had at the school, too scared to do more than make idle conversation with any of her fellow students in case they caught on that she really didn’t belong there as they did. (Although Gilbert’s constant presence during calling hours at the boarding house did catch the attention of some of the other girls, who seemed impressed, if Anne dared to put a name to it.)

She still truly believed that he must have made up some version of her in his head that he had become infatuated with, for a man like him should know better than to look twice at someone like her. But it seemed he was almost as stubborn as she was, and he wasn’t easily dissuaded.

(Although Anne did feel rather silly at how tempted she was when faced with a vase of flowers on her vanity or a new book that had been delivered while she had been in class to act as physical tokens to remind her that he was choosing to be part of her life.)

* * *

“Do you have your things packed?”

Anne looked over at Gilbert who had appeared at her side, as he often did, on her walk home from class.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you packed? There’s a seven o’clock train tonight or we can take one in the morning,” Gilbert said, not asking to take her books even though he was sorely tempted.

“Train to where?” Anne laughed.

“Avonlea,” Gilbert said, giving her a weird look. “Christmas break began… thirty minutes ago for you, I believe.”

“And you will be with your family and I will be at the boarding house, I’ve already asked the matron,” Anne said, like it was obvious.

“Anne!”

Anne stopped at his outraged tone and turned to look at him in the middle of the slush-lined sidewalk. “Gilbert Blythe, don’t you take that tone with me,” Anne huffed.

“Well. Don’t you go acting like you’re going to be spending Christmas alone,  _ Anne Shirley _ ,” Gilbert shot back.

“I’m not going to be that rude interloper that bothers you and your family on Christmas, Gil,” Anne scoffed.

“You’re  _ part _ of that family, Anne!” Gilbert all but yelled, making Anne flinch at the volume and the very idea. 

“I—”

“I know you… you didn’t trust me when I told you how I felt. Feel.” Gilbert sighed, his cheeks red from more than just the cold air. “But I thought you at least knew that you were family… whether or not you believe me or… return my feelings…”

And Anne had no words. She could only stare at him, barely feeling the icy breeze that slid through the trees above them. 

Gilbert’s words… what he meant… had never occurred to her. Being part of a family, let alone his, was just never something she had been allowed to have. 

So all she could say was, “I’ll go pack” and walk away.

* * *

If Anne had found herself enraptured by the way Avonlea looked in the summer and fall, it was nothing compared to visiting the tiny island town in December. Sitting between Gilbert and Bash in the front of their cart for warmth, she stayed silent as she took in the man-made Christmas decorations in town that bled into the winter wonderland that was the countryside. 

Anne couldn’t tell if it was the holiday cheer that pervaded through the air and into her, but she found herself looking forward to her longest visit to Avonlea yet and even began looking forward to Christmas like she never had before.

Once they shuffled into the warmth of the house, after knocking the snow out of their boots, Mary had them all assigned with tasks to make the place appropriate for the holiday. When Anne was handed a bowl of cranberries, she was left looking lost in the kitchen while Bash and Gilbert went back out to fetch a tree.

“Do you want a pie?” Anne asked when Mary came bustling back in with her knitting in one hand and impossibly large stomach in the other.

“Hm?” Mary hummed as she started to sit at the table, giving Anne a smile when she hurried over to help. “Oh, no, dear. Have you not made garland before?”

Anne shook her head. “I’ve never really decorated like this,” she admitted, her cheeks pinking from where they had finally warmed up from the ride in.

“This is one of my traditions, but the boys have a few of their own, they say. You don’t have to help us if you don’t want to—”

“I do,” Anne said quickly, which had the positive effect of making Mary smile and look pleased.

“I’d love for you to, anyway,” Mary said, using her foot to kick out the chair beside her so Anne could join her at the table. “If you have any ideas of your own, don’t hesitate, hm? Now, these are pretty simple, it just gets a little messy…”

Anne found making garland was easy enough, but repetitive, so she let her mind wander as she pushed the needle through the berry and dragged it down her thread and then started again. Mary continued to delegate from her seated position and Bash and Gilbert argued good-naturedly about the tree in the background, but Anne just allowed the sound to wash over her as she pushed and dragged, only paying attention to any berries too soft to make it. 

Her thoughts immediately turned to what Gilbert had shouted at her the day before that she needed to stew over. It seemed she had almost been adopted into this family and she hadn’t even realized it. Or let herself see it. She spent so much of her time tense, waiting for them to push her away, that she couldn’t see what was really happening. Once upon a time, this would have been a dream come true. Sometime after that, it would have scared her so much that she ran. But now… she sat in the middle of this home and let herself get lost in her head, not a worry in the world for whatever was going on around her. Anne didn’t think there had ever been a time when she did not have one foot on the ground, ready to bolt should the need arise. 

Even if Anne still had a hard time believing Gilbert’s confession from the beginning of the school year, and refused to even contemplate her own feelings (since it was impossible to return something that did not exist in the first place), Anne felt it a measure of personal growth that she even felt comfortable enough to contemplate Gilbert’s words from yesterday. Mary and Bash had long since stopped treating her like a guest and Anne knew that meant something, even if the idea was still so foreign and new. So, if Gilbert had been telling the truth with how his family saw her, maybe she could believe  _ that _ , at the least.

* * *

The few days since her and Gilbert’s arrival for the holidays were spent decorating while simultaneously preparing for the baby’s imminent arrival. It still threw Anne for a loop to see these people so excited (she hadn’t been able to stop staring when Bash had gushed over some of the baby clothes Mary had finished knitting), but it did help to be allowed to assist them in their preparations. 

One afternoon, Anne stepped into the bedroom she stayed in each time she visited to fetch one of her books and then heard Gilbert calling her name.

“Yes?” she called distractedly, stepping into her doorway as she glanced down at the book in her hand to check that it was the right one. When she looked up, Gilbert was suddenly there with his usual furrowed brows. “Gil?”

“Uh, Bash is going into town… if you wanted to go with him,” Gilbert suggested.

“I think I’ll stay inside today,” Anne answered, waiting for Gilbert to say whatever was making him tug at the ends of his sleeves like that. “Does Mary need something?”

“Bash said she was going to take a nap. I think the end of her pregnancy hasn’t been easy,” Gilbert said, with a frown. 

“We’ll have to work twice as hard to make things better for her, then. While we’re here,” Anne said, the corner of her mouth ticking up as he nodded in agreement. 

“Of course,” Gilbert said, not leaving her doorway.

Anne smiled a little, taking pity on her friend. She set her book down on the table by the door to give him her full attention and ask, “Was there something else on your mind?”

“Would you allow me to court you?” Gilbert blurted out, his ears turning red.

“Right now?” Anne asked, her voice rising a bit in hysteria as her eyes widened.

“Well— We could— It would, uh, probably be easier once we are back at school… I just. It occurred to me that maybe you doubted my intentions or… the seriousness. Of my declaration. I understand we may have been somewhat unconventional, but… I could ask Bash and Mary for permission, in lieu of your parents, if you’d like,” Gilbert stumbled through.

Anne’s hand gripped the doorway as she stared at Gilbert, more than a little bit dumbfounded. 

“You court someone to see if you wish to marry them,” Anne said incredulously.

Gilbert blinked at her before his eyes cut to the wardrobe in the room behind her and then back. “Yes,” he said evenly.

As a girl, Anne had dreamt of scenarios like this. But the Anne of her dreams never felt this off-kilter, because the Anne of her dreams expected this to happen, while the real Anne did not. And real Anne had not dreamt of such things since before she began her monthly, before she had run off into the world on her own. Now there was this man, saying he had even  _ considered  _ tying his life to hers and to let the world know. He wished to be seen with her by a society that had spent so long refusing to look her way at all.

Anne’s brow furrowed as she contemplated what Gilbert wanted, what he was saying and what he really meant. And it occurred to her that, while she had a difficult time believing in the unbelievable, she did not want him to stop trying. But she would need to give in, just enough, so he wouldn’t actually leave, despite her pushing him away. 

So Anne stepped forward, emboldened by Gilbert standing his ground and the fact that his eyes widened as she reached up to slide her hand into the curls at the nape of his neck and tug him down to meet her. 

She felt his groan through the hand she had on his chest as she took the lead and deepened the kiss. She had worried, more than once, about how she reacted the last time they had done this, but the smell of him, of the warmth and comfort of his home, reminded her of nothing  _ less  _ than the dim hallway in her former place of employment. Maybe it was also the way Gilbert seemed almost afraid to touch her, like hurting her was the last thing he ever wanted to do. But her hand on him clenched around a fistful of his shirt as the fingers on his own hand threaded into her loose hair. She let go of him, utilizing the bare amount of knowledge she shouldn’t have had, and her hand fell between them to the fastening of his pants—

And Gilbert jolted back, like someone jerking away from a dream of them falling, as his hand fell to take hers firmly but not rough enough to hurt so it was no longer touching him.

“What—”

“Do you not—”

“No!” Gilbert wheezed.

Anne’s brow twisted as a weight settled in her stomach. She tried to pull away but Gilbert kept her wrist in his hand. 

“I thought—”

“Anne,” Gilbert whispered, his other hand coming up to cup her cheek. “It’s not that I don’t want to—”

“Is it me?” Anne asked, her voice almost too low to hear, but the pain was evident.

Gilbert’s eyebrows drew together as he stepped back to her, dropping her hand so he could use both of his to hold her face gently. “That’s not what I mean at all, Anne-girl. I— It’s not… I would very much like to. With you. But that’s not why I asked to court you.  _ All of you _ , not just… for that.”

“I thought… You’ve spent so many months trying to make me see…”

“And I’ll spend as many more as I need to. If you allow me to,” Gilbert sighed, dipping his head down to press a kiss to her forehead so he could hide the sadness in his eyes. “All of you, I mean it.”

“What if you don’t like the parts you haven’t seen yet?” Anne asked, the words tumbling out of her mouth without her permission.

“If they’re part of you, there’s no reason for me not to like them,” he answered easily.

“You can’t know that,” Anne sniffed, trying to blink away the tears that made a sudden, unwelcome appearance.

“Then it’s a risk we can take together.”

Anne tilted her head to look up at him, the expression on her face one usually reserved for puzzles and riddles. 

“And I thought I’d be able to figure you out after so much of studying,” Anne sighed.

“And I still insist that I’m an open book.”

“Without an appendix.”

Gilbert just smiled as he took her hand again so he could kiss the back of it. “Why don’t you go read by the fire while I start lunch,” he suggested.

Anne looked from Gilbert to the empty kitchen behind him and decided oatmeal sounded just fine for such a cold December day. She nodded and he left her with another smile to head to the stove, either not noticing or not caring that his shirt was still rumpled. 

She picked up her book again and made her way to the sitting room where someone had left a roaring fire. As she sat on the couch, she very quickly got lost looking into the flames as she thought over Gilbert’s… proposal, of sorts. It was quite apparent that, if anything, he had just gained conviction in his supposed feelings for her since his confession. She had assumed his attention would wane, but here he was, asking her to court. He even suggested he use his own family to substitute her lack of one, as if he still had to go through the rituals even if no one cared enough about her to make him follow through. 

But the question remained, was this what  _ she _ wanted? If she were to believe that his feelings were true and that he actually wanted anything to do with her beyond friendship… Did she reciprocate?

And Anne believed her answer lay in how much it would pain her to see him walk away. It was what she had been expecting him to do ever since they met, formally, but to think of it actually happening… It almost felt worse than a lifetime of rejection, for this was based on nothing  _ but  _ choice, and she actually wanted him to  _ choose her _ .

When he brought her a bowl of overcooked oatmeal, Anne sincerely hoped that was what he was doing… 

* * *

“It’s quieted down in there, if you want to come back inside,” Gilbert said, stepping out onto the porch, betraying his words by buttoning up his coat like he meant to join her.

“I can handle a little noise,” Anne said ruefully from her spot on the top step. “I wouldn’t have survived the asylum if I couldn’t. I just needed some air, I’ll be in, in a moment.”

But the door didn’t open again and Gilbert wiped the snow off the step beside her and took a seat.

“Is that where you grew up?” Gilbert asked carefully, keeping his eyes on the sprawl of white in front of him.

“Partially,” Anne answered.

“I hope the baby won’t make you uncomfortable—”

Anne shook her head, her hair slipping over her shoulder in the braid she had twisted into it when her pins were giving her a headache. “No, of course not,” she dismissed, looking down at the loose button on her coat. “I’m so happy for them, truly.”

“But?” Gilbert asked, his gentle tone making it easy for her to just pour her heart out into the snow.

“I’ve never seen two people so happy to bring a baby into this world,” Anne whispered rawly, unable to feel the cold despite sitting out in it for just too long. 

“I’m sure your parents were happy to have you,” Gilbert said charitably and Anne knew he meant well.

“No. They weren’t,” Anne said flatly.

“How do—”

“Because they told me, Gilbert,” Anne sighed.

“Oh. I— I thought they were—”

“So did I.”

When Anne glanced over at Gilbert to see his eyebrows express his confusion, she let out a breath into the cold air before saying, “I was told they died when I was barely three months old. I made up stories about them being poor as church mice, madly in love, and devastated that they had to leave their beloved daughter far too soon. But I wanted to know more, I wanted to know the truth, so I broke into the matron’s office and found her files. My file happened to have been spared by the rats… luckily. I almost got caught, almost wish I had been, but I escaped to the attic to read what I found.”

“They were alive,” Gilbert said and Anne gave him a painfully wry smile.

“They were alive. Still living in Nova Scotia. I also found out that I was going to be sent off again, even though all my other placements had never quite stuck. So I left. I hitched a ride with the milkman and then with anyone else who would take me. And I ended up speaking with a priest who pointed me right where I wanted to go,” Anne explained, eyes back on the land before her so she wouldn’t have to watch Gilbert’s face react to what little emotion bled from her voice. “And I found them. And they asked me to go away. So I did. And made my way to Charlottetown, eventually.”

Anne held herself tight, waiting for Gilbert to say anything, but all he did was reach out and take her hand.

At his touch, a gasp for air escaped as her chest threatened to burst open if she tried to keep holding in her tears for much longer, unable to keep them inside after all these years. 

“I’ve spent my life surrounded by unwanted children,” Anne gasped, folding in on herself like a broken doll. “I can’t… I can’t understand… That baby in there is so loved and I _ just wanted to be like her _ . So badly! But they didn’t want me.  _ None of them did _ .”

And Anne was crying so hard she barely felt herself being moved until she felt Gilbert’s warm embrace seeping through her clothes as he held her to him, tight enough to quell her shaking.

“We do,” Gilbert whispered into her hair, his own emotion bleeding through, as if he wasn’t even trying to stop it. “We want you. I promise you that, Anne. I promise. And it won’t be taken away from you.”

Her arms unfolded and wrapped around him, clinging to him as tightly as he clung to her as she cried into his neck, her tears freezing against his skin in the icy air. But he dared not move.

* * *

Anne lost track of time, but eventually her source of warmth shifted from Gilbert to the fire inside the orchard home. And that was how Bash found them some hours later, Gilbert slumped against the couch with Anne curled under a quilt with her head in his lap. He said nothing as he woke them both up and sent them to their rooms, the house as silent as snowfall after the commotion of the day.

Anne didn’t dream that night, thankfully, but it took her more than a few moments to remember where she was when she woke up the next morning. A lifetime of rotating beds, or what barely passed as beds, could never fully rid her of that jolt of unfamiliarity when her eyes slid open and she wasn’t greeted by rows of heads crammed in a room.

In another part of the house, she heard movement, then the age-old sounds of a crying baby. It was one she was used to, but it cut off quicker than she anticipated. And it reminded her of the evening before and how she felt like a cart with a broken wheel, out of alignment and unable to go on, at the sight of the tired but delighted smiles of that baby’s parents. She had fled before she was even introduced to the screaming bundle. 

She was tempted to feel embarrassed about how she reacted, but she figured Mary had seen her in much worse states anyway. 

Her mind then flitted to how it felt to be held so tightly, as if those arms would be hard pressed to ever let her go… but would in an instant should she ask. It made her shiver and she sat up to pull on a sweater, just as a soft knock sounded on her door. 

Anne slid out of bed, tightening the sweater across her front, and opened the door to Gilbert’s face that turned red as soon as he realized she wasn’t dressed. It almost made her laugh.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, dragging his eyes back up to her face where she had to purse her lips against a smile as he lingered at her loose hair. “I’ll let you—”

“It’s alright,” Anne said. “Good morning, Gilbert.”

He sighed. “Good morning, Anne,” Gilbert said, his gaze so tender it made her feel almost like she was floating

Without thought, Anne stepped forward and slipped her arms around him, resting her head over his heart. Her eyes closed at how quickly he hugged her back, as if it was automatic for him, as if it required no consideration. It reminded her that no sweater could compare to how it felt to be held like this, by him, and she half wondered if she could stay like this for the rest of the winter.

“Did you sleep well?” Gilbert asked softly, as if he cared, as if he’d do something about it if she answered in the negative. When she just hummed in response, he said, “Mary would like to see you this morning. If you’re up for it.”

Anne took a deep breath and let it out slowly, Gilbert’s arms moving with the rise and fall of her shoulders. She nodded to his information and then said into his chest, “Can you say it again?”

“Hm? That Mary—”

“No,” Anne mumbled against his shirt. “The other thing. What… what you told me… at the start of term.”

She felt Gilbert’s thoughtful hum from his chest as he softly moved some of her loose hair away from her face. 

“That thing where I said you would be at the top of your class?” Gilbert asked against her temple, making her huff in annoyance and then she swore she could feel him smiling. “Or the thing where I said I was madly in love with you?”

“I don’t think you said ‘madly’,” Anne murmured.

“Well, it’s definitely ‘madly’ now,” he said and Anne pulled back to give him a look that just made his smile grow.

“Gil,” Anne sighed before he was gently tilting her chin up, giving her time to pull away, but she just leaned in, no thought in her mind to do anything else as he kissed her softly.

“I love you, Anne Shirley,” Gilbert whispered, touching his forehead to hers so he wouldn’t have to let the cold winter air get between them. “I hope one day you believe me.”

Anne blinked open her eyes and met his, like always. Should he ever be in the same room as her, close enough to be pulled near like a magnet, she could always count on his gaze being on her like a cloak, always there to meet hers should she look his way. And now was no different. 

“Okay,” Anne whispered, the words leaving her mouth just as easily as they left his. “I believe you.”

“Oh,” Gilbert said and the brief flash of astonishment that flew across almost made her laugh again, but any humor building up in her chest disappeared in the face of his beaming smile as he said, “Good.”

And Anne wondered, just for a moment, if years of slipping by unnoticed, of surviving solely because she was invisible to a world that didn’t want her, were almost worth it… just to be looked at by this man that acted like he would gaze at her forever if he were allowed. He looked at her like she was the lone light in the night and he had no use for candles as long as he sat in the darkness with her. 

Just as her mouth twisted into a smile, a throat clearing behind Gilbert made them jump apart so quickly that Gilbert hit his arm against the doorframe.

Bash raised an eyebrow at the two of them, half in and half out of Gilbert’s father’s old room, and looked as if it took all of his self control to not laugh, or worse. He gave Gilbert a look that seemed to promise something for later, perhaps a talk or a good boasting or both, before looking at Anne and refraining from looking too pleased with himself so as not to scare her off. 

“I should have something ready by the time you get dressed if you’d be so kind as to take it to Mary,” Bash said, gesturing to the kitchen and valiantly not laughing as Anne nodded then turned and all but slammed the bedroom door behind her. 

As Anne got ready for the day, taking her time so her face would return to its normal color, she felt… different. It wasn’t bad, but it was new, and she wondered if this was anything like true confidence. Whatever it was, it allowed her to keep her hair down for the day, feeling like the house held a casual atmosphere after the fuss of the day before, and also had her reaching for pants instead of her corset and skirt. What would normally be a risk felt not quite as scary, not in this home, on a day of quiet joy. Plus, Gilbert had to know what he was getting into at this point. 

When she left her room and walked through the kitchen to pick up a plate of bacon, Bash and Gilbert wore identical looks of surprise, almost looking like true brothers with the way their eyebrows raised, but neither said anything as her sweater fluttered behind her as she left them to go to Mary and Bash’s room.

“Ah, I haven’t seen those in a while,” Mary said as Anne entered the room after softly knocking. 

Anne shrugged, feeling a touch less sure, but Mary just smiled at her and gestured for her to set the plate down on the bedside table and then join her on the bed. As she did, Anne’s eyes fell to the bundle of blankets in Mary’s arms before looking away, almost too nervous to keep looking.

“I don’t think you two properly met,” Mary said, her gentle smile making Anne’s shoulders lose some of their tension. “Anne, this is our Delphine.”

Anne opened her mouth to say something but the bundle was suddenly being deposited into her arms and she lost her words at the sight of the tiny face that squinted up at her. 

“Oh,” she breathed, feeling as if this might be the first baby she truly  _ saw _ . 

“I almost forgot how tough that was,” Mary sighed, shaking her head ruefully as she watched Anne watching Delphine. “But looking at that little face makes all the pain go away. Almost.”

Anne laughed lightly but continued to study the infant in her arms, her hand coming up to trace the miniscule features that seemed impossibly small. “She’s beautiful, Mary,” Anne whispered.

“I’m glad she timed it so both you and Gilbert could be the first to meet her,” Mary said as she rested against her pillows.

“She wanted to be an early Christmas present,” Anne said, smiling up at Mary before frowning at the other woman’s sudden tears. “Mary—”

“Anne, I am so sorry I couldn’t do better by you,” Mary said through her tears. “I know it was hard for you when we were able to find a home for Jackie—”

“Jackie needed it more than I ever did—”

“You deserved so much more…”

“Mary, no,” Anne said, shaking her head, unable to reach for her with the baby in her arms. “You did so much for me, probably more than I realized.”

“I should have done more—”

“And I probably wouldn’t have let you,” Anne sighed. “You were the only one who saw through me, just saw me at all, and that was more than anyone else.”

“I’m not sure if that helps,” Mary said with a watery smile.

“If anything, I didn’t appreciate your help enough—”

“You were just a child, Anne,” Mary said regretfully.

“I don’t think I was ever much of one, to be honest,” Anne said wryly, eyes falling back to Delphine as she wriggled in Anne’s hold.

“You should’ve been. No child deserves to have to grow up that fast.”

“You had to, too, didn’t you?” Anne asked, glancing up at Mary as she guessed at Mary’s own past.

Mary sighed. “Maybe we can break the cycle,” she said as they both looked at Delphine who almost made a noise of agreement as her tiny nose scrunched up.

“I’d like that,” Anne said softly, lightly touching the tiny hand that escaped the blankets.

Her mind went from the baby in her arms to Jackie, who had sent Anne a few more letters throughout the fall, and any future children she might have the privilege of teaching should she be able to. She couldn’t reach every child in the world, or even every child on the island, but maybe she’d be able to help just a few and make it so they wouldn’t have to struggle as much as she did. Maybe Anne could make sure they knew that she wanted them there, in the world, even if they had been taught the opposite. Maybe her own wanting, her own acceptance of herself and her existence, could transfer to some of those that were never seen. Because she’d see them, even if no one else did, because she knew how it felt, and what it  _ could _ feel like if someone just paid attention once and awhile.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm "whereintheworldiskamalakhan" on tumblr! Thank you so much for even reading one word of any of my fics!


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